Harry Potter and the Master of Death
by BohemianVoldemort
Summary: After a year of studying the Darkest Arts and preparing for the inevitable, Harry Potter engages in a duel with 'the Greatest Dark Wizard of the Century' and wins. He decides to keep the Elder Wand, and as another war engulfs the wizarding world in fear, he realizes just how much he needs it. [Mostly AU, some canon, many spoilers.]
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**I do not own any part of J.K. Rowling's charachters, plots, or anything from her books, or anything else. This is an alternate ending to the Deathly Hallows, and an "After the War" story.**

 **This is also my first (possibly last) fanfic, so don't expect too much. I am still developing the main plot and need to edit chapter two. More or less, just redo it. The first draft I published was a totally rushed flop.** **This chapter would be longer, but i didn't want to quote much directly from the books, and the duel can't really last that long without being totally unrealistic. For best results, pick up the Deathly Hallows and read from the point he takes off his invisibility cloak and then switch over at the quote below. Enjoy.**

 ** _Chapter 1: The Flaw in "The Flaw in the Plan."_**

 _The yell of shock, the cheers, the screams on every side of "Harry!" "HE'S ALIVE!" were stifled at once. The crowd was afraid, and silence fell abruptly and completely as Voldemort and Harry looked at each other._

* * *

The Sun had been rising steadily as they continued to taunt each other after Harry's appearance. The first rays of light were now peeking through the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall; Torches were still blazing gallantly and defiantly in their sconces. The crowd was restless, completely surrounding the two, shaking visibly in anticipation of the inevitable duel to come. The Prophecy had come full circle; neither can live while the other survives, and _both_ must die at the hand of the other, Harry realized. It even seemed like the Earth itself had come to a standstill.

"You won't be killing anyone else today, Tom," Harry spat, looking into those red slits with great disdain and loathing. "You won't be able to kill any of them ever again."

Voldemort hissed. . .

"And you're going to stop me?" Riddle sneered, "Harry Potter, you are no extraordinary wizard, with no extraordinary talents! I can read your thoughts, your fears and ambitions with relative ease, Potter, you are weak. . ." Voldemort cackled as he continued. "I master the Deathstick, the Wand of Elder, the Wand of Destiny! And you think you can kill me with that pathetic stick of yours? You don't even wield the wand of Phoenix feather!" He laughed again, a cruel, mirthless laugh, devoid of any joy, which held only rage. "I will take pleasure in killing you and mutilating your corpse, Potter."

Harry laughed. . .

"The Elder Wand doesn't answer to you!" Harry sneered, wearing a facial expression a Malfoy would be proud of. "It didn't in the Shrieking Shack and it won't now. You aren't a worthy master, Tom, and the wand chooses the wizard." Harry added, hoping he wasn't misinterpreting the signs, but only enraging Voldemort further. "Our fate rests on that." he thought.

" _I killed Severus Snape!"_ Voldemort exclaimed, provoked into a temper, but holding his wand quite steady, relishing in the thought of killing the boy now, of freeing himself of this pointless Prophecy.

"Yes, and you killed Gregorovich and Grindelwald for good measure while on this stupid pursuit, didn't you?" Harry countered, smirking in spite of himself. "That wand will be your undoing."

"How - "

"It appears that you don't apply Occlumency as well as you think you do either, Tom, always the same mistakes, aren't they?" Harry interrupted, his arrogant smirk withering away into lines of disgust and hate.

"You dare challenge my skills, Potter?"

"Yes I dare, because that wand isn't yours, it never will be, Tom. And you don't realize that because you haven't read _The Tale of the Three Brothers_ , have you? The wand will only choose a wizard who has accepted death as one who has mastered it." Harry proclaimed, his hairs standing on edge, waiting for the snake to strike.

"It matters not!" Voldemort shrieked, showing his obvious exasperation at the arrogance of the foolish boy that was facing him.

"It all matters, Voldemort, when you failed to kill me in the forest, the wand chose a new master, one that accepted death and walked to meet it, one that faced it and still survived, the Elder Wand is mine."

At this, Voldemort's fury boke through, and as the surrounding crowd gasped and shrieked, he cast the first curse. " _Avada Kedavra!"_ But Harry was more than ready, and found himself transfiguring nearby rubble into a lion that willingly intercepted the curse. As the crowd winced, Harry went on the offensive, twirling the Hawthorne wand and manipulating the Gubraithian fire burning on the torches, forcing them to jet out towards his opponent like lassos, but Voldemort countered.

Everyone shuttered, retreating ever so slightly in fear, as Voldemort swished his wand through the air and the fire became one, mutating into a giant winged beast that soared and circled the Great Hall as Harry locked into position. As the Fiendfyre dove towards Harry, he mustered up his strength and bellowed, " _Protego Horribilus!"_ conjuring the strongest shield he could before the dragon attacked.

The great Wyrm crashed upon his shield, weakening it, but also dispersing itself into a wall of flames in the attempt. Harry took aim before they could dissipate completely; pointing his wand at Voldemort, he shouted, " _Infernus Vortexia!"_ Sending a great wirlwind of flames back towards its caster, but before they could meet their mark, they were dissipated. . .

Harry struggled under the pressure as the Elder Wand thrashed and twirled, almost in a blur of momevent, sending purple flames, green lightning, and curses at him. And Harry fought back with everything he had, but Voldemort was more of a match, sending, in a scream of fury, what felt like the power of pure force being sent hurtling towards him, the same force he felt two years ago in the Ministry Atrium, he knew what he had to do, and he knew what Voldemort himself had done. Focusing all of his energy into his defense, bellowed, " _Inanimatus_ _Conjurus!"_ and crouched behind the conjured titanium shield.

The audience gasped as the force of the spell cracked his shield, throwing him onto his back and leaving him panting for air. As Harry looked up, what he saw was horrifying; Voldemort gliding towards him like smoke on water, or more eerily, like that of a Dementor. Voldemort wielded his wand and conjured a flaming whip from the end, thrashing Harry across his shoulder. The crowd jostled as Voldemort struck again, lassoing him and tossing him across the Hall.

As Harry landed, he cast a cushioning charm ( _Arresto Momentum_ ) and rolled onto his back, coughing up blood, in pain and barely conscious after the last twelve hours of constant battle that was fought overnight. He knew strategy was his only option, that Voldemort was too great for him. He climbed to his feet weakly as Voldemort approached. He had to take a risk, the only risk that could possibly work. . . The crowd was worried as Voldemort approached him, raising that wand with a dull, bored expression on his face. This was far too easy for him, a disgraceful challenge.

"Want me to finish it, Potter?" Voldemort sneered. "Want to be reacquainted with your dear mudblood mother?" he laughed.

Harry raised his wand. . .

"So be it." Voldemort hissed. A cruel smirk on his face, basking in that sense of purpose and rightness he always felt before delivering the final curse, before snuffing the life force from his foes, enjoying the anticipation of this last kill before being uncontested, before becoming truly immortal. Harry merely waited, praying for it to work, as Voldemort jabbed his wand.

 _"Avada Kedavra!"_

 _"Prior Incantato!"_

It was like the blast of a cannon went off, as Harry watched his golden flames engulfed the green, hurtling into the Elder Wand. Harry watched as echo after echo spilled out of his enemy's wand, recounting in reverse the spells of their duel; Voldemort was utterly shocked, this couldn't happen again! The spells he performed on the Sorting Hat and Neville oozed out. Voldemort screamed in frustration, trying in vain to break the connection, and then. . .

Everyone gasped as the echo of Voldemort himself poured out of the wand, and Harry broke the connection, knowing this was his only chance. "The boy!" it shouted, it's voice as deadly sounding as its counterpart. "The boy was a Horcrux, you fool!"

So shocked was Voldemort that he didn't even notice when Harry's scarlet jet of light blasted him off his feet, disarming him. He got up warily as Harry approached him, wielding the Elder Wand at long last, thinking of those he loved, of those who fell in the battle, and of his parents as he aimed his wand at Voldemort's heart. . . He jabbed with the wand. . .

 _"Avada Kedavra!"_

And Voldemort fell to the ground, as crumpled and broken as Dumbledore had been at the foot of the Astronomy tower, and earsplitting roars echoed through the Great Hall; everybody engulfing Harry in a tight embrace. And though the war was far from over, the final piece had finally been set in stone; Voldemort was dead.

"Checkmate."

* * *

 **A/N: Check out the SuperCarlinBrothers' theory on the elder wand on Youtube, it makes a lot more sense than it being Harry's because he disarmed Draco, and the Elder wand can somehow sense that. #notmywandlore**


	2. Chapter 2: A Day in the Life

**Alright guys, I've revamped this, so let's get on with the story as it should be. No more rushing after this is up. lol I have a good idea where this story is heading, but you'll just have to find out.**

 **However, as only my Great-grandmother has died during my lifetime, at the defiant age of 101, I don't really know what true grief and mourning is like, so if it doesn't show in my writing, please discard it as something I have no experience with.**

 ** _Chapter 2: A Day in the Life._**

Harry woke up suddenly, and in utter confusion. He was sore, broken, and beat. He had never been so exhausted in his life. He couldn't see much, but reckoned he had to be in the hospital wing, as the sounds of people jostling and wincing collectively filled the room.

He couldn't even remember how he got there, "I had to have collapsed or something." he thought, as recollections of the day before came flooding back from beyond the seemingly imperturbable haze that clogged his brain. Merlin, he felt disgusted with himself; he felt as if he were unclean, almost. He had used the worst of the Unforgivables, the _Avada Kedavra_ ; he had usedthe Killing Curse. . . He knew that he shouldn't feel ashamed for it, after all, he had done it for the benefit of the world itself, a necessary evil act, but he couldn't help it, and suddenly he didn't feel like being 'Undesirable No. 1' was so far off the mark; Harry didn't even know what consumed him more, the fact that he had actually used that despicable curse, or the fact that he _could_ use it. He felt as if he had lost his teenage innocence. "Well," he thought, wincing slightly as he propped himself a bit higher on his bed. "Somebody had to do it. Who else could have. . ."

"Potter?" said a voice, sounding a little tentative. "Are you awake? Are you alright?"

Harry hesitated as he reached for his glasses and put them on, looking at an apprehensive Minerva McGonagall, "We won. . . I killed him. . . Not too sure how I feel about that," he muttered. "What happened, Professor?"

"You can relax, you only fainted, Harry, after you killed him. Don't feel too guilty about that right now, we were dueling to kill as well; you saved a lot of lives. It really was the only way." she said gently.

"I don't think even _he_ was as shocked at the outcome as you were, yourself," she continued, eyeing him rather intensively. "Might I add, I am surprised you even saw that duel through without collapsing. . . How long has it been since you slept?"

Harry chuckled before answering, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "A few days, perhaps, and I don't necessarily lead the most relaxing life, you know. . ."

He looked around, subconciously chewing his cheek, now awake enough to actually see the aftermath of the battle, the castle was a disaster. He saw that the room had been magically expanded to conform to the needs of all of the wounded. He saw people he recognized, people he didn't, and the injuries varied. He watched as Madam Pomfrey tended to some serious spell burns on one patient, rubbing a red paste on the heavily inflicted areas, before moving on to change Parvati's bandages, and then to consult other healers that had obviously been sent for. He felt a twinge of guilt when his eyes met every face.

Following his eyes, Minerva sighed. "Harry, don't worry about them," she said, patting his shoulder. "They will heal, they fought of their own accord, and performed marvelously. This burden is not yours to carry."

Harry didn't respond, but his thoughts flashed to Remus and Tonks, knowing that they died not knowing their son. His thoughts moved to Fred, that he couldn't have stopped his death even if he tried; Fred had always been the one to be there whenever anyone needed him, but he couldn't help him when it mattered. He felt hot tears ripping in the back of his throat as burning teardrops rolled down his face, lying there in an anguish he had never before felt.

He thought of Colin, of how he had progressed gallantly, and how broken and defeated his body looked as Oliver carried him to the Great Hall. He thought of Lavender, of Snape, and of all the others that had died before. It all hit at once, just what this war had cost him, had cost everyone. With yet another pang of guilt, his thoughts flashed to Remus' newborn child, how he would be growing up without his parents, much like he had. After all that had happened, he hadn't stopped Voldemort quickly enough to spare Teddy of the same tragedy that had befallen him.

Minerva watched as her pupil broke down into a downfall of tears, and moved to comfort him. She sat on the edge of his bed and wrapped her arm around him, pulling him close as they both mourned. . .

* * *

"Perce, are you okay?" called a tentative voice from behind what seemed like a veil that curtained the living world surrounding him.

Percy turned around, tearing his eyes from the horizon. Not really noticing anything, he turned back around, watching the sunrise through unfocused eyes. He heard someone approaching, but didn't make much sense from it. When the footsteps stopped, he looked over again. Next to him was his father, looking concerned. He sighed.

"I killed him, Dad," he said. At Arthur's quizzical glance, he continued, merely stating the name. "Rookwood."

"That was you?" he asked, "I only saw him basted into the wall."

Percy muttered something, but no sound escaped his mouth. Arthur placed a hand on his son's far shoulder, he noticed that Percy looked like a shell, still in shock. He knew that the family wouldn't be the same after Fred, that he wouldn't be the same, but it hurt even worse seeing his son like this.

"He murdered Fred, Dad." he raked his hand though his hair. "He burst through th-the corri-corridor wall, he ki-killed him. . . C-cursed him. . . I don't know - "

"It's okay, son." Arthur interrupted, pulling him close. "At least it's over. Trust me, It gets easier with time. . ."

Arthur was fighting back tears, it wasn't over, there were still Death Eaters out there. Death Eaters that escaped during the final duel, quietly slipping back into their shadows, angry and vindictive. He had a bad feeling that something was going to happen, something that couldn't be stopped, but his only focus now was processing his grief, trying to heal. They walked down to the Great Hall, where the bodies of the fallen had been removed and replaced with tables filled with mourning students, teachers, and families, but rejoicing in the Fall of Voldemort.

* * *

Despite the Healer's halfhearted warnings and admonishments, Harry found himself storming out of the Hospital Wing about thirty minutes after McGonagall left to 'attend to business with the Minister.' It was a little after 9:30 in the morning, and he figured the Weasleys would be in the Great Hall with everyone else, but he wasn't quite ready to face anyone yet, so he made his way to the seventh floor, hoping to find some solace in an empty Gryffindor tower.

"Oh, hello, Harry!" rang a voice from behind.

"Oh, er, hi, Luna."

"I hope you're feeling a little better, I was quite worried when you fainted." she said, in a very matter-of-fact voice one rarely heard from her.

"Yeah, well, it wasn't a very pleasant experience. . ." he grimaced. Somehow, he could always talk to Luna about these things, even if he wasn't ready to.

"Everyone is rather glad he's dead, you know," she replied, back to her usual ethereal voice. "You probably don't want to hear that all the time, though. It must be hard to kill someone."

"Like I said, Luna, not very pleasant." he spied a bench, and offered her a seat. "I'm glad he's dead, too, but having to kill him. . . I knew I had to, but it doesn't make it much easier."

She took the proffered seat, sitting indian style, she turned towards Harry. "Now that he's gone, though, you'll probably have a little more peace." she said.

Harry laughed at that, "Knowing my luck, I hope it lasts." he chuckled, looking around. "The castle really is a disaster, it's hard to see it like this."

Luna sighed. "Yes, it really is unfortunate. You really have to watch where you're going. Professor McGonagall said clean-up and repairs are starting after the memorial service."

Harry sighed, the Memorial service was in two day's time, and apparently _he_ was supposed to speak. Minerva was going to host the service, but apparently he was expected to give a speech, or rather, an explanation. As if she were reading his thoughts, Luna spoke up. "So, what are you going to speak about, Harry?"

"Er, I'm not really sure, I mean, I need to tell them why the battle was fought, I guess. Honor the fallen."

"That's a good idea, Harry," she replied, "If you need any help, just ask away, but for now, I think I'm going to go eat some breakfast." She smiled and gave him a quick hug as he wished her farewell. "I'll see you later, Harry!"

He watched as she skipped along and took the stairs by two. Smiling, he got up and resumed his hike. He was just passing by when a stone gargoyle jumped aside and Kingsley Shacklebolt made his way down a spiral staircase.

"Wotcher, Harry." he boomed.

"Hello, Minister." Harry said tentatively, hoping not to discuss anything too serious, but knowing mere hope wasn't enough by the way Kingsley was looking at him.

"Kingsley, please, I was actually hoping to have a word," he said, eyeing him sympathetically. "Let us see if Minerva can let out her office to us for a moment."

"Sure." Harry sighed.

* * *

Hermione and Ron sat with their heads together in the Head's office with Minerva when they heard a knock. . .

"Enter." McGonagall answered, and watched as Harry and the interim Minister walked in. Harry's eyes lit up a bit at his best friends' presence. Another Ministry wizard sat in the corner, blushing furiously, and stayed a tad bit more concentrated on his quill and parchment than necessary.

"As I'm sure you know why you're here," McGonagall began. "The Ministry of Magic and I would like to discuss both this past year, and your future here at Hogwarts, respectively."

The trio nodded in unison, but none too enthusiastically.

"I know it seems rather rushed, but we have a collection of prisoners, and the Wizengamot wants to start their trials immediately." Kingsley added, "Your testimonies will be able to help piece together everything.

The trio nodded again in assent. Harry chanced a glance at Dumbledore's portrait, who nodded in encouragement, smiling proudly.

"While we all understand why you three disappeared, and we also know vaguely what your goal was, what we don't know is what happened or how."

Ron and Hermione looked to Harry with matching expressions that clearly said, "This is your story more than ours, mate."

Harry paused. "We were hunting Horcruxes, sir, Voldemort - " he ignored the winces and the sound of the secretary dropping his inkwell and continued. "made six intentionally. In sixth year, Professor Dumbledore taught me all about his past. Taught me that he was afraid of death and liked to take 'trophies' from people he had murdered."

Kingsley nodded in understanding as he gestured for Harry continue.

"When he came to Hogwarts, he was obsessed with his parentage and the school's founders. He collected Slytherin's locket, the cup of Helga Hufflepuff, and the lost diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw. He turned them into containers for pieces of his soul, and hid them respectively in a cave near the sea, in Bellatrix's vault at Gringotts, and here, in the Room of Requirement. He also tracked down his relatives, the Gaunts, and stole their family ring. He hid it there in their old shack after containing a piece of his soul in that. In second year, when the Chamber of Secrets was opened, he was acting through a diary he had turned into a Horcrux, but I destroyed it on impulse, and Dumbledore, the ring. When he returned, he created a new one. His snake, Nagini, became his final Horcrux. Needless to say, we four and Neville destroyed them."

Impressed murmurs filled the air, coming from the many portraits as Kingsley nodded and replied, "Now, Harry, you said Voldemort made six _intentionally_?"

Harry chanced another glance at Dumbledore, who merely smiled and winked. "Yes, sir," Harry began, feeling a little awkward. "You see, when Voldemort tried to kill me, a part of his soul latched onto myself. When I walked to the forest that night, I let him kill me." he paused, glancing over at Hermione who was crying silently on Ron's shoulder. "It needed to be destroyed. For a while, it was like we were both in limbo, between life and death, I was there in King's Cross, and Dumbledore came to me, and explained that when he took my blood for it's protection, it sealed our fate, and while he lived, so would I. He never really learned.

"That's why we disappeared, that's why we had to fight this battle, that's why he is gone and won't return." Harry added.

After Harry's tale, it was an hour that the trio sat in the Heads office, confirming faithful Death Eaters, reporting the first half of their travels, and discussing Tom Riddle's past. Once they had answered all of the Minister's questions, Kingsley spoke up. "Good job, you three. Once again, Thank you for your service and sacrifices. I would like to meet here tomorrow, same time, for more detail." Kingsley declared after checking with his secretery's notes and producing them in triplicate. He tipped his 'very uncomfortable' bowler hat in farewell once the trio had set in schedule tomorrow's appointment, and he stepped towards the fireplace. Finally, with a booming "Ministry of Magic, Atrium!" and a _whoosh,_ they were gone.

Once they were alone with the Headmistress, she spoke. "Now, with what you have all accomplished. . ." Professor McGonagall smiled. "I daresay you have collectively proven your abilities well beyond N.E.W.T Level. However, there is always room for improvement at Hogwarts, and where the challenge is lacking, I am willing to offer more advanced courses, if that is what you wish. Bear in mind, though, I expect an Outstanding for each of you in Transfiguration."

Ron looked at Harry and Hermione in awe, the latter looked like her dearest dreams had come true. Advanced courses!

"Oh, can you guys believe it? Come- _sniff_ -Coming back to Hogwarts?!" she grinned ear to ear.

"Looks like this _canary_ ate the bloody _cat_!" Ron exclaimed, making Harry laugh. Ron ignored her as she thumped the back of his head.

"If you'd like, Ronald, I could show you exactly what canaries could do." Hermione grinned mischieviously while Ron paled a bit, keeping his mouth shut.

"Sounds like a plan, Professor, I could use a nice relaxing year indulging in various advanced studies." Harry said, making Professor McGonagall beam and winking at Ron who was shaking his head in exasperation.

"We've spent whole ruddy year immersing ourselves in those wretched books on the Dark Arts, and you mean to say you want to study more?!" Ron asked, flabbergasted.

"Ron, it wouldn't hurt to relax and just have a normal year for once." Hermione piped.

"No offense, Hermione, but we all know what your kind of relaxing is like." Ron grimaced.

"She's right though, mate, and you know you'll love it." Harry grinned.

"Bloody hell, you two. . . Right, where do I sign up?" he said with a small grin.

"Well, in that case, I expect your owl no later than June 30th, detailing the classes you would like to take, and I will send your booklists as usual. I shall see you in September at the latest, and in the future, you will do well to control your language while in my office, Weasley." McGonagall smiled. "I look forward to teaching you in your seventh year, you're dismissed."

"Yes, ma'am," they said collectively.

As Ron and Hermione left, Harry hung back, telling them he would meet them in the common room. As they left he turned McGonagall, "Professor, I was just hoping to have a word with Professor Dumbledore's portrait, in private?"

"Certainly, dear boy!" the portait smiled, as Minerva nodded and climbed the stairs to her quarters. "Now, Harry, what is it that is on your mind?"

Harry chuckled. "Everything."

* * *


	3. Chapter 3: Third in Command

**A/N: Please re-read chapters 1 and 2 if you are following this story or have already read the old version (if only chapters 1-3 are up, of course.) I planned on updating these all at once to suit everyone's needs. You will find a lot of the same or similar plot points, and other things cut, but I believe it was more efficient in telling the tale. Please review with suggestions. I know my grammar be flawless, so that is one less thing I have to worry about. ;b**

 ** _Chapter 3:_** ** _Third in Command._**

2 May, 1998, Midday

With a swift _crack_ , a man with a twisted face appeared as if he had popped out of the Earth itself, right outside of a lone Victorian-Era Manor. Lifting his left sleeve he examined a pale red tattoo, cursing, he let his sleeve fall and dragged out his Sycamore wand and started putting up extra wards.

"Dolohov!"

The man turned, scowling, aiming his wand at another's paling face.

"Is it true?" He approached with disgust.

"The Potter boy," he paled. "We need to do something!"

"We do nothing, Yaxley, God dammit! We need to gather more support. We need a plan."

As if on cue, six more people apparated. four men and two women.

"Rodolphus, why are you here?" Dolohov spat, eyeing him suspiciously. "You ran! _Crucio!_ "

The man's screams filled the calm air, the curse was bearing down on him, burning every nerve. The man named Dolohov smirked as he watched the man writhe in agony, rolling in the filth that befitted his traitorous name.

"Dolohov! Stop, we need every man we can get." A young woman shrieked, darting forward and grabbing his wrist. He eyed her for a moment before relenting.

"Fine, but if he fucks everything up, I'll remember who vouched for him, Parkinson, and on _your_ head be it." he spat.

"And what in the bloody hell _is_ everything?!" Yaxley panicked.

Dolohov held up his hand to silence Yaxley and turned to the other woman, with a sneer on his twisted face. "And why are _you_ here, Dolores?" he laughed. "Finally want to step into our ranks, since you have no more excuses; no more ministry to run to?"

The squat, ugly woman stepped forward with a sickening girlish smile on her face and simpered, "I reckon I'd be much a better use aiding in this _most_ just cause, than hiding like a coward. I want reformation!"

"Hear, hear!" shouted a bloke that stepped forward.

Dolohov scowled, "Fair's fair, now shut your sodding mouth, Dawlish, you fool, our master's dead! We need a plan. . . _In_!"

His scowl became more pronounced as he followed his small group into the manor, and seated himself at the head of the large round table uncontested.

* * *

3 May, 1998, Evening.

Harry felt better after his discussion with Dumbledore, one particular quote stuck with him. He had said that he told Severus more or less the same thing when he asked the former Potions Master to kill him, he said, "Harry, you alone know whether killing Voldemort for the benefit of those you love will damage your soul." Harry sighed, he had gotten a lot of advice that day, and he had been lying in his old four poster mulling it over ever since. He had decided not to retrieve the Ressurection Stone, but he had made up his mind about the cloak and the wand. Much to Ron's pleasure, but Hermione's distaste, he was adamant about keeping the two Hallows and using them both for good and to keep them from others.

He started as the dormitory door burst open and a streak of copper red hair flew in. He got up and reeled back as a hand flew through the air.

 _SMACK!_

"Arrghh!" Harry cupped his cheek and dodged another flying hand before grabbing her wrists. "What the Hell, Gin?"

" _How DARE you go running off into that forest, how DARE you avoid me all day! I've been crying my eyes out for hours, and you haven't even the decency to fucking make sure I'm okay!"_ she screamed, throwing herself into his arms and breaking down.

Harry was utterly bewildered, but wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his embrace. "I'm sorry, Gin, I know. I was. . . I'm a total prat, I'm sorry. . ." he whispered. leading her to his bed for her to sit on. He took a seat beside her and kept his arm around her waist as she continued sobbing onto his shoulder.

"I thought you w-were _dead_ , Harry, don't you c-care? Going off and g-g-giving yourself up like that!?"

"Of course I care, Ginny." he said quietly. "I had to let him kill me. I had to. . ."

"Then why are you still alive, then. Explain that!" she exclaimed, her brown eyes burning, sending a tear down Harry's face. Her eyes softened a little, but her face remained determined. Harry sighed.

"Ginny, listen, theres a lot of things you dont know, and some things I can't even explain correctly." he began, trying to keep her tears at bay. "When we left, our job was to find pieces of Tom Riddle's soul. . . Like. . Like the diary. . ."

Ginny flinched at this and pulled away. She began pacing the room and trying to keep those memories of her first year at bay. "The diary was destroyed!"

"Yes, Ginny, but there were more objects like it," he said, standing and taking her hand in his. "Part of his soul was latched onto mine, without it being destroyed by him, he couldn't die. . ."

Ginny stared at him, horrified, "Oh, Harry!" she cried, and threw herself on him again.

"M'alright, Ginny, look, I'm okay. . ." He kissed her forehead.

"You look far from okay, you prat." she said quietly.

Harry laughed, dragging her back onto the edge of the bed, brushing a stray tear off her cheek with his thumb while gazing into her eyes. "I know."

Harry didn't know how long they sat there in silence, leaning against each other for support and comfort. It was only broken when the sky grew dark and it began to rain, washing away the blood, the sweat, and the tears that drenched the grounds outside, cleansing the castle of the horrible memories of the night before.

Suddenly Harry spoke up, speaking what he knew to be true. "It's not over, Gin. Dumbledore said this was only the beginning, and. . ." he paused when she looked up at him, with tears in her eyes. "Ginny, I don't want to make the same mistakes again."

"What do you mean?" She wiped her eyes on his worn robes.

"Death Eaters are still out there, plotting. Dementors are still out there, they aren't going to settle for Azkaban anymore, and Kingsley won't make any deals with them. . ." Harry began, stroking the side of her cheek with his thumb. "I can't run from this anymore, being away from you won't keep you safe. I was too scared before, but I can't keep making the same mistakes."

"So what, you're not going to ditch me again?" She asked.

"If I did that, you'd never forgive me," he said. And before he could stop himself, before he could even think about it, the words just came out. "I love you."

"As long as you don't ditch me again, Harry, I love you too." She kissed him softly on the lips and pulled him into a tight embrace as they leaned back onto the tattered four poster. They merely listened, holding onto each other as the rain poured defiantly, elegantly beckoning in a new day, and welcoming in a new era for the Wizarding World. ;)

* * *

4 May, 1998.

The meeting with Kingsley ran rather long, he asked for them to go through exactly what happened. This was a particularly hard experience to relive, having lost loved ones on their journey, losing themselves, being tortured, beaten, and burned, yet they pushed on. When the interview was complete, they left without a backward glance. Hermione was especially traumatised by the past year, and it took everything she had to recount the occurrences at Malfoy Manor.

Despite what happened at the Manor, and Ginny's arguments, Harry still felt the need to testify on behalf of Narcissa and Draco. He felt like they were trapped by their own allegiances, but weren't exactly loyal to the Dark Lord. He wasn't exactly ready to hand them an olive branch, but was going to push for leniency. Though, the case of Lucius Malfoy was a completely different entity all together, and Harry didn't even deem his trial worthy of an appearance, he was going to rot in Azkaban.

"All right, Harry?" Ron asked, sitting next to him in the Great Hall and loading his plate. Hermione had just sat down next to him,

"Yeah, I'm just thinking about Malfoy. I just really feel for him." he began, "He really is all talk, right? He didn't want to be there, he didn't want to kill Dumbledore. He was told and threatened. . ."

"You know where I stand on this, mate," he said through a mouthful of mash. "I'd feel a lot more sympathy for him if he weren't a right pain in the arse."

"Yeah, I guess. I still think his mother and he were going to defect from the Death Eaters, though."

At that moment, owls swooped into the Great Hall, all carrying an edition of the _Evening Prophet_. They all dropped their burdens on the tables and soared away.

"Mate, check it out!" Ron held a paper out, looking in disbelief. Hermione snatched it, in with her usual manner, and began reading aloud.

 **HARRY POTTER VICTORIOUS!**

 ** _What really happened when Potter and Co. disappeared, August last?_**

 _Written by: Adalbert Carmichael, Junior Undersecretary, Ministry of Magic._

 _On August first, 1997, Harry Potter and friends dropped out of society. Now, they are back, and have defeated the darkest wizard since Gellert Grindelwald. Coincidence? I think not! But the question remains unanswered, "Where was Harry Potter?"_

 _Until now, people have been left in the dark, but I have had the most tremendous opportunity to hear this story from the three heroes, all poised for the Order of Merlin themselves!_

 _The following tale chronicals the adventures of Harry Potter (17), Ronald Weasley (18), and Hermione Granger (18), in their significant hunt to destroy He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. A hunt that climaxed in the epic Battle of Hogwarts, and a 22 minute duel with the bane of the Wizaring World, himself, reliable souces have verified._

Hermione looked up briefly, tears in her eyes, "How _dare_ he, Kingsley must be furious! This wasn't his story to air!" she exclaimed before she returned to the article with pursed lips, perusing the columns in a solemn silence.

"Blimey, people never take a hint, do they?" Harry shook his head.

"Nope, people never can bloody well leave me alone, can they, Harry?" Ron chuckled, causing Harry to laugh.

"What do you think, Ginny?" Harry chuckled, "How does it feel to have a famous brother?"

Ginny was obviously outraged by the article, but pushed those feelings aside. Taking a deep breath, she sighed, brushing a stray lock of hair out of Harry's eyes.

"Well, I reckon you're still better looking."

"Oi!" Ron huffed.

"Shut it, Ron, you know it's true." Ginny giggled, while Harry placed a consoling hand on his friend's shoulder, and whispered, "It's okay, Ron. I'm sure Hermione thinks differently."

Ron's ears flushed a bright red. . .

Hermione, having finished the article, threw it down on the table, "I can't believe you guys. . ." she muttered.

"It's okay, 'Mione, it had to come out eventually. . . Besides, I don't reckon old Adalbert will be Junior Undersecretary much longer, though." Ron chuckled, grabbing her hand. "Hey, let's go back to the common room and get some rest. We have a big day tomorrow."

"You never cease to surprise me, Ronald." she replied, with a befuddled expression.

The walk back to Gryffindor tower was a long one. By the time they all made it to the common room and sat in their once-usual spot in front of the fire, Harry sighed as he dragged out his parchment and worked on his speech for tomorrow. He had already made sure Severus Snape was retrieved from the Shrieking Shack, and also made sure he would be honored as a hero. He also made a point to let it known that the battle could not have been won without him. The four of them sat in silence as Harry tucked away his speech turning his attention to Ginny, and Ron twirled absently his fingers in Hermione's hair.

"Just a few more days, and we can start to really heal." he muttered, and drifted into another uneasy sleep.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4: In Memoriam

**This chapter actually was extremely difficult for me to write. I hope you enjoy it. lol I didn't make a list of all fifty or so victims, because that is more than my brain could handle. I just listed some possible victims** **you get the idea.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the winged palominos or the powder-blue carraige, as much as i would love to.**

 ** _Chapter 4: In Memoriam._**

5 May, 1998, Midday.

The school made their way down to the now pristine grounds of Hogwarts as familes and friends in mourning paraded through the colossal front gate. Hogsmeade had been so packed in the last few days that even the residents had been letting out their own sitting rooms. Hogwarts was open to any witch or wizard who wished to attend the service and pay their respects to the fallen heroes.

Nobody was ultimately surprised when a powder-blue carraige the size of a house, and its dozen winged palominos, all but dropped out of the slight overcast, landing gracefully near the edge of the forbidden forest. Such a stir, however, _was_ caused for those who hadn't witnessed the Triwizard Tournament, when the Black Lake produced a marvelous swirling vortex. From its depths, erupted the great ghostly Brig of Durmstrang. It seemed to Harry that people were calling from all over the globe to honor the participants of the Battle of Hogwarts and witness the now-prominent scene where Harry Potter had defeated and killed Lord Voldemort.

The ceremony was to be held near Dumbledore's white marble sepulchre, where Severus Snape was to be buried as well, next to his former Headmaster

A gesture in tribute to his efforts to defend the innocent. On the whole, Severus Snape was the unsung hero, the hero likely to be forgotten to time and history, but the hero, none-the-less, that had made all the difference, and Harry had planned to honor him as such. No matter how much they mutually loathed each other, he realized, some grudges weren't worth holding.

Once all attending parties had arrived, making their way through the countless rows of chairs, once the front gate had closed, and everyone had had time to offer their greetings, their comforts and condolences, everyone gathered in their designated areas. All of the family members and combatants had the frontmost sections reserved, while all visitors were left to the furthermost sections. Finally they all took their seats in silence as Professor McGonagall called for order.

"Welcome, and thank you all for coming." she began. "We are all gathered here today, to mourn for the tragedies that occurred here a mere three days ago, but also to celebrate what our efforts here represented.

"Darkness invaded our castle that night, and we met it with courage and hope, with pride and with dignity." she proclaimed. "We met it and fought united; we symbolized our faith in each other, showing that we have the ability to make the right choices, and not just the easy ones. The lives we lost were not lost in vain. Their sacrifices must always serve as a reminder, to all of us, of what it takes to fight for what is right."

Harry was in the front row, with Ginny at his side. Tears were already rolling down his cheeks and falling freely onto his dress robes. He saw Ron comforting a sobbing Hermione, he saw a distraught Mrs. Weasley sobbing uncontrollably over her husband's shoulder, and he saw George at the end of the row looking lost, numb almost. With a pang of guilt, he remembered the way George that had never been without Fred, his partner in crime. They had been so inseperable, and so uncerimoniously torn apart. His whole world had been turned upside down. Fred had been ripped away from all of them, but no one could ever understand what George was going through. Before he knew it, McGonagall had finished her eulogy and had left the stage; Harry had been called up to speak. Ginny gave him a slight nudge as he got up. His hands were trembling, and tears were still sliding down his face, "Merlin, I'd rather take on Voldemort again." he whispered as he took his first painstakingly long strides toward the podium.

He reached the podium after what had felt like a kilometer, rather than a handful of meters. He cleared his throat before casting the _Sonorus_ charm with the Elder wand and speaking, pausing only to let his eyes drift over that sea of black, those thousand in attendance. "As you have surely read in the _Evening Prophet_ , one year ago I was given a mission by Albus Dumbledore, a mission to hunt down pieces of Voldemort's soul," he began, pausing only to let everyone gather themselves. "so that one day he would be mortal once more, so that one day, he could be truly killed."

He looked over the sea of black dress robes once more, his eyes meeting every face. His eyes met with Hagrid's tear-streaked face, allowing him to blow his nose with that trademark trumpeting roar before continuing, he smiled sadly when he noticed Hagrid was sitting next to the olive-skinned half-giantess, Olympe Maxime. "This is a task in which we succeeded, and the last Horcrux was hidden in this castle. By the time we got here, Voldemort was aware of our mission, and was on his way here to stop us. This is why this battle had to be fought, this is why we are here today. This is why Voldemort is dead. In his arrogance, he thought he could lay siege on this castle, he thought we would lie down and allow him to declare victory, he was wrong. Everyone who fought him here deserves the highest honor the Ministry can provide. Let's have a moment of silence for our fallen brothers and sisters, mothers and daughters, and for our fathers and sons. . .

There was silence. . .

"Thank you." he said quietly, before casting " _Quietus_ " returning slowly to his seat.

Harry was met with applause and a standing ovation as he left the stage, a novelty of fame he never thought he could get used to, to be replaced with a vaguely familiar wizard with tufty white hair. Harry recognized him as the man who had officiated at Dumbledore's funeral. He had given a short speech about 'a dawn of a new day' and offered his sincerest condolences to the ones in attendance who had lost loved ones. Then, he presented the families of each of the dead with a posthumous Order of Merlin, First Class. To conclude the ceremony, he read the names of the ones who didn't make it through.

 _"Lavender Brown. . ._

 _Michael Corner. . ._

 _Colin Creevey. . ._

 _Amos Diggory. . ._

 _Elphias Doge. . ._

 _Justin Finch-Fletchey. . ._

 _Hestia Jones. . ._

 _Remus Lupin. . ._

 _Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin. . ._

 _Padma Patil. . ._

 _Severus Snape. . ._

 _Fred Weasley. . ."_

* * *

After the names had been remembered, and the centaurs paid their last respects with a familiar shower of arrows, the ceremony was concluded. Harry had left the Weasley family alone to mourn together. He needed to be alone, for just one moment. It was just his luck as he made his way to the lake, that he was cornered by the interim Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"That was a nice speech, Harry." Kingsley greeted him, with his voice of rumbling thunder.

"Yeah, thanks. . ." Harry replied.

"Look, I know you have a busy day," he started. "but I wanted to talk to you in private."

"I understand." Harry simply stated, not even bothering to make eye contact, but merely gazing into the depths of the Black Lake, to where the merpeople had not long ago disappeared.

"Yes, well, I just wanted to say that if you choose not to come back to Hogwarts, I have a spot reserved for you in the newest Auror Academy of Edinburgh, Scotland. The best Auror school within the United Kingdom. I have spoken to the Head of the Auror Office, Gawain Robards, and we have decided to relax the requirements, so long as the applicant can pass all necessary physical screening and academic testing."

"And if I decide to come back to Hogwarts?"

"That spot will remain reserved, if that is what you wish," Kingsley said, understanding why Harry might want to take a break. After all, he did just defeat Voldemort in a duel, singlehandedly. "I understand if you want to take a break, Harry, you deserve it. The Aurors can make due for the next few months, but they have been depleted. Look, I don't want you to make any decisions right away. I will send an owl later this month."

"Kingsley. . . being an Auror is all I've really ever considered, but I don't know. . . I think I just want to be a normal student for once, have a normal year." Harry said. "I'll think about it, but don't hold out for me just yet. . ."

Kingsley simply smiled, he couldn't blame him. After all he had been through, he hadn't even been declared a fully qualified wizard in any legal sense, not that it mattered now, anyway, poised for an Order of Merlin, First Class, before even taking N.E.W.T's. . . "I expect I'll see you soon, Harry, get some rest, if anyone here deserves it. . ."

"Yeah," Harry chuckled, thinking of the Burrow. "rest is definitely something I'm looking forward to."

"You know, Harry?" he said with a smirk, as he started to walk away. "If you really want a normal life, you better start brewing Polyjuice in bulk."

* * *

The next day passed in a blurry haze. After the ceremony, Harry had attended nearly every funeral he could. He felt like he only owned black dress robes, felt like he had been crying for days, and he felt that even though the war had already been won, something was still lingering over him. Some terribly ominous feeling that something bad would happen, and he wouldn't be able to stop it. His mind echoed the words Dumbledore's portrait had told him when he asked about the Elder wand, "Keep the wand, Harry, it is immensely powerful, and I think you'll find that you might need it when the time comes. I trust that you will use it wisely."

When Harry woke up on the 7th of May, there were only two funerals left to attend. He had been sleeping in Percy's old room, having put off moving into Grimmauld Place for as long as he possibly could. As he headed his way downstairs he could hear sounds of rambling in the kitchen, and he could smell the aromas of a fresh breakfast. It was only dawn when he opened the door to the kitchen to find Mrs. Weasley cooking up a breakfast for an army, yet only he, Bill, and Arthur were up.

"Morning, Harry." Arthur said, without looking up from the _Daily Prophet_.

Harry drearily returned the greeting, knowing Mr. Weasley wasn't actually reading. He glanced at a hollow looking Bill. "Hey, er. . . I didn't think anybody would be up." He dragged his fingers through his touseled hair, merely for something to do with his hands. Then, before he consciously knew what he was doing, he had moved over to Mrs. Wealsey and wrapped his arms around her in an embrace. He knew he never said it, but he loved them all like his own family, and he knew they felt the same. Mrs. Weasley trembled slightly as he hugged her ever more tightly, and she broke down.

"Oh, Harry, dear," she sobbed. "Th-the food."

"Oh, Molly, dear," he whispered, while non-verbally vanishing the cooking eggs in the skillet. "You are cooking entirely too much food for us."

The moment was interrupted by a thundering noise coming down the stairs, and Ron popped through the open doorway with Hermione. They greeted everyone in the same dreary manner and sat at the table, hand-in-hand. Something that went all but unnoticed by Mrs. Weasley. "Oh, Ronald, Hermione, I am so glad you two are finally together, it really did take you two long enough. . ." She said, still crying, albeit silently. She looked at her youngest son fondly, ignoring the way his ears were glowing a brighter red with every moment. Ron merely chuckled in response, while Hermione beamed sadly. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley."

"Now, now, dear." she replied. "You best just call me Molly, Harry here finally wore down, too. All these formalities are just so ridiculous, considering. . ."

"Thanks, Molly." Hermione replied bashfully, smiling in earnest. Ron had wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close, Rubbing her arm in comfort. The Weasleys needed every ounce of happiness they could get. The day dragged by as the rest of the family made their way down to the kitchen. George had stayed in his own flat, needing to distance himself. Talk at the table turned eventually to Fred, the family made jokes, and celebrated his, usually humorous, accomplishments, and reveled in stories about him that each of them cherished.

* * *

It was a quarter after ten when everybody decided to start getting ready for Moony's and Tonks' funeral, which was set to be held on Andromeda's property, in a clearing in the woods where Tonks had grown up exploring, Harry thought Remus would rather like to be laid to rest there. He put on his new midnight blue dress robes, having had enough of those ghastly black ones. Then made his way to the porch in waiting, enjoying these last few care-free moments on the deck, watching the hummingbirds and garden gnomes before he would inevitably let it all out yet again. Before he knew it, it was time. They soon apparated to Andromeda's house, and walked through the winding gardens, and to the door to knock. Andromeda answered the door promptly, and Harry could tell she had had a rough week, her eyes all the more bloodshot after losing her only child. Of course it was hard, but after losing Ted a merely a bit over a month ago, the pain and anguish must have been unbearable. The war had really taken a toll on Andromeda, she had lost everything beside her house and her grandson, whom she cradled in her arms every passing second, afraid to let go of him.

"Hello, you lot, the service is just about to begin. Come in. . ." she greeted rather somberly.

Everyone returned the greeting and they made their way down another winding path to the designated clearing in the woods. Harry lingered just a moment longer to meet his godson, Teddy. He had been nervous about this moment for the last month, even if he wasn't certain it would ever come to pass.

"Hello, Andromeda. . . Hi, Teddy. . . You both have my most sincere condolences," he said in a choked voice. "I was rather close to Remus, and I always loved Tonks."

"Everyone loved Nymphadora, Harry," she replied, while rocking the baby in her arms. "That means a lot, thanks. . . I actually want to talk to you. . . about. . . about Teddy."

"What about, is he okay?" Harry asked, both perplexed and concerned, his eyes snapping immediately to the small bundle in her arms.

"Oh, yes, he is more than okay." she said quickly. "I just wanted. . . But since you are his godfather, of course. . . I would like for him to stay with me." she blurted, as if hoping to just get it out there. She offered Harry the cooing infant.

"Of course he can, Andromeda," he replied, accepting the infant who looked at him in wonder, subconsciously turning his smooth turquoise hair into a tousled jet black hue. Harry laughed before looking back up and continuing. "As long as I have a weekend here and there."

Ginny made her way next to Harry, smiling in spite of the whirlwind of shock and emotions. "Who would have thought," she said, gripping Harry's shoulder. "the Chosen one has turned to mush."

"Oh, bug off, you. This is my godson, I'm entitled." He smiled.

Andromeda was beaming ear to ear, Harry thought it must have been the first real smile she had displayed since the tragedy at the Battle of Hogwarts. They laughed together as they made their way to their seats. It was a small, private funeral. It seemed like it just fit. The ceremony was both sad and beautiful, and they each celebrated their memories. Before long, though, the funeral was over, and the small party had begun making its way to the final, and surely the hardest, funeral to attend.

* * *

An hour later, they made their way to the Weasley family cemetery in Ottery St. Catchpole, and found their way to the giant marquee lined with chairs. Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys stood by the entrance to greet friends, family, and well-wishers, and were suddenly engulfed by the tremendous crowd that arrived. It had seemed like all of Hogwarts had come to pay their respects. Even the ghosts had come. Soon enough, all the chairs had been filled, and people were forced to stand. Once the coffin arrived, all of the Weasley men and Lee Jordan carried it to its final resting place with tear-streaked, trembling faces.

The tufty-haired wizard officiated the funeral, and soon, the whole crowd was in tears. George was crying like he had never cried in his life. It was unfair how he had died, cursed by a Death Eater from behind. The tufty-haired wizard said phrases like "true genius" and "one last great source of laughter and joy," but no one really heard him between a hundred collective sobs. Molly sobbed as she bounced the little baby Teddy in her arms, Harry had passed him on so he could comfort Ginny the best he could. Soon after the eulogy was concluded, and George got up to speak.

George had to give himself a mental shake to quit sobbing. He pulled out the flask of firewhiskey he had been saving for after the funeral and took a long pull to bring him back to his senses before he began.

"My dear ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. I would like to say a few words today." he began, fighting back his tears. "Fred, Fred was an exceptional gentleman, and a fine example to all." He waited as those in attendance chuckled in reminiscence of the fiery haired Gryffindor joker. "All jokes aside," he continued, with a sad wink to Harry. "he was a Marauder through and through. But even though we may or may not have given some blokes a hard time, purely in an attempt to have a good laugh, of course, we always knew when to be serious. Fred was a great friend, a marvelous son and brother, and the best damn twin I could ever have gotten stuck with, I'm going to miss him. . ." He turned around and leaned over his brother's coffin, tears falling in earnest now, he gently patted his twin's mahogany coffin and said simply. . .

"Mischief Managed, mate."

* * *

As George walked back to his seat, the sound of music filled the room, and guests started to congregate, celebrating the short, but brilliant life of Fred Weasley.

* * *

 _When I find myself in times of trouble,_

 _Mother Mary comes to me._

 _Speaking words of wisdom,_

 _Let it be. . ._

 _And in my hour of darkness,_

 _She is standing_

 _Right in front of me,_

 _There will be an answer,_

 _Let it be. . ._

 _Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be._

 _Whisper words of wisdom,_

 _Let it be. . ._

 _And when the broken-hearted people_

 _Living in the world agree._

 _There will be an answer,_

 _Let it be. . ._

 _For though they may be parted there is_

 _Still a chance that they will see._

 _There will be an answer,_

 _Let it be. . ._

 _Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be._

 _Yeah, there will be an answer,_

 _Let it be. . ._

 _Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be._

 _Whisper words of wisdom,_

 _Let it be. . ._

 _Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be_

 _Whisper words of wisdom_

 _Let it be. . ._

 _And when the night is cloudy,_

 _There is still a light that shines on me._

 _Shine until tomorrow._

 _Let it be. . ._

 _I wake up to the sound of music,_

 _Mother Mary comes to me._

 _Speaking words of wisdom,_

 _Let it be. . ._

 _Let it be, let it be, let it be, yeah, let it be._

 _There will be an answer,_

 _Let it be. . ._

 _Let it be, let it be, let it be, yeah, let it be._

 _There will be an answer,_

 _Let it be. . ._

 _Let it be, let it be, let it be, yeah, let it be._

 _Whisper words of wisdom,_

 _Let it be. . ._

* * *

 **A/N: I was listening to the Beatles the other day, and thought this song was perfect for the occasion. I do not own the lyrics. They belong to the Beatles, the song is titled "Let it Be." No copyright infringement is intended, obviously.**


	5. Chapter 5: Secrets of the Darkest Arts

**I've** **hit** **sort of a dead end on this chapter, forgive me if this is subpar.** **Please review with tips on my story. I only have until September in this story planned. Btw, yes I know it is long.**

 ** _Chapter 5:_** ** _Secrets of the Darkest Arts._**

 _One month later. . . (7 June, 1998.)_

 _The flagstoned floor cracked under the blaze of spells that were rocketing to and fro between the two duelists. Voldemort taunted his opponent, his mortal enemy, as he overcame his feeble attempts at magic._

 _Tap, Tap, Tap. . ._

 _He was bloody, defeated, broken, as he lie on the ground, struggling to breath, trying to will air into his punctured lungs. He tried to get up. Voldemort swooped upon him, tearing his wand from his grasp._

 _Tap, Tap, Tap. . ._

 _"Do you want me to end it, Potter?" He sneered, looking upon the foolishly audacious boy with a mingling of fury and joy, he laughed mirthlessly as he continued. "I think not. I think you want to suffer more; I want to see you suffer before I grant you the relief of death!_ Crucio!

 _Harry heard the screams, he heard the cries of fear and outrage in the crowd as he looked over. Ginny Weasley was writhing on the floor in agony. She was screaming and crying at the top of her lungs._

 _Tap, Tap, Tap. . ._

 _Voldemort laughed as he lifted the curse and cast another. "_ Avada Kedavra!" _Harry watched as one by one the Weasleys fell to the ground, as limp as Cedric had been. Hermione fell next, then Neville, Luna. He turned his wand towards Harry. "Enough?" He cackled. "I think so, your luck is spent, Harry Potter."_

Avada Kedavra!

 _"Harry! Harry! Wake up!"_ A voice cried, jerking him from his slumber as he drew the Elder wand and wheeled around in paranoia. His eyes darted around the Burrow's sitting room as he felt his own cold sweat dripping down the nape of his neck. His robes felt drenched. He vaguely heard a tapping sound coming from the window as the same voice cooed. "Harry, it's okay. Just a dream. . ." He wheeled around again, pointing his wand at a bundle of blankets on the floor, blankets wrapped around a certain redhead.

"Ginny." Harry frowned, kneeling down beside her, cupping her cheeks with his hands and kissing her forehead. "Are you okay? Why are you on the floor?"

She glared at him for a moment before he kissed her forehead again, and her eyes softened at the second touch of his lips, it must have been one of his more dreadful nightmares. Shoving him away playfully, she said, "You chucked me off the couch, you prat, now keep a respectable distance before Mum comes in and murders you."

"I'm sorry. . ." He murmured, slumping down beside her spot on the floor, dropping his wand and rubbing his still bruised chest. "You really think she'd do me in?"

 _Tap, Tap, Tap. . ._

They both started when the tapping echoed through the room again, coming from the window. They both spied an official, yet disgruntled looking owl on the window ledge. Ginny untangled herself from the blanket and opened the window. The owl soared in towards Harry and dropped an equally offical looking letter on his lap and took off, but not before ruffling its feathers and defacating on Harry's sleeve.

Harry cursed as Ginny plummeted into a fit of hysterical laughter, though the moment was soon interrupted. Just at that moment the door leading into the kitchen burst open, revealing a severely disgruntled Molly Weasley. Harry finally managed to find his wand under the blanket and vanish the foul odored droppings as Molly glared at them. Harry and Ginny exchanged hasty, embarrassed looks that clearly said, " _Busted_."

"And what is the meaning of this?!" she demanded, her voice raising with each syllable.

"Er, an accident," Harry replied honestly, as his memories of the night before swam back into focus. "Really, Molly, I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"Seconded!" Ginny exclaimed slyly, a shadow of laughter still sparkling in her eyes, trying to hold it back.

Molly's eyes seemed to soften as she noticed they were still dressed fully in the clothes they wore yesterday, but her stubbornly stern look never waivered.

"I see, well then. . ." she said tersly through pursed lips before demanding, "What was all that noise about?"

"A Ministry owl was rather flustered with Harry, Mum." Ginny replied, laughing in earnest now. "It sprayed him!"

"Ministry owl? What could they possibly want now, dear?

"Er. . . Kingsley probably wants to meet with me about offering me a job." Harry winced, readying himself for what might happen when what he said sunk in. He still hadn't spoken a word about the job offer, partly because he didn't feel the need to ditch schooling, and partly because the inevitable admonishments that might come from Ginny.

"A job? Nonsense, dear, you haven't even graduated, you aren't yet qualified!"

"Harry, you told me you were going back to Hogwarts!" Ginny exclaimed, her predictable temper getting the better of her, her brown eyes forgetting any trace of laughter and flashing dangerously.

"Ginny, it's okay, I am. . . It's just, I told him I would think about it. . . Let's just open it and find out first."

"Hmpff!"

Harry drew his wand while making his way to seat himself at the kitchen table. He took a deep breath and exhaled before he broke the official seal. Apprehensively, he pulled out the letter and unfolded it. He was very conscious of the fact that Ginny and Molly were hovering over his shoulders, the better to read. He took another deep breath and read aloud.

 _Harry,_

 _My apologies for the obvious lateness in sending this letter, the Ministry is swamped and we are all working overtime_. _O_ _f course, you understand, as living at the Burrow makes you privy to information on the state of the Ministry._

 _As per the request I made to you in May. I have been in further discussion with the school, and they would be honored to count you amongst their alumni. As such, your reserved seat in the esteemed Auror Academy of Edinburgh will remain yours. You have until your nineteenth birthday to decide whether or not you wish to apply, as their semester starts on the first of September as well, this permits you to return for your N.E.W.T Levels this year, if you wish. I have set for you an appointment with myself and Head Auror Robards for tomorrow at 8 am, my office, kindly allow Arthur Weasley to escort you_. _It is my deepest regret to inform you that the Ministry still is not yet safe, there are still strange occurances, it seems the escaped Death Eaters are herding, they are definitely planning something, but no one knows what it is. . ._

 _Regardless, it_ _is my wish, should you return to Hogwarts, that you learn advanced courses in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, and Transfiguration; Hogwarts also offers a crash course on Alchemy that I wish you to enroll in, it will make Potions seem considerably easy. Professor Slughorn would be more than happy to accept you after your outstanding marks last year, though that is up to you. I only have your best interests at heart, here. It will be a tough year, but it will make your Auror training feel like a stroll in the park. I hope Ron and Hermione join you, I have enclosed their letters with my similar wishes along with yours._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Order of Merlin, First Class._

* * *

Harry re-read the letter over again, stunned. Molly gripped his shoulder tightly while Ginny looked at him in disbelief. "Advanced courses, Harry, you?! Of course, you're brilliant, but special courses are rare!"

"Always the tone of surprise!" Harry laughed as Molly thumped the back of Ginny's head. At this moment, the door to the kitchen burst open. Ron came striding in, immediately rummaging the food pantry.

"I. . . am. . . _starving_!" He proclaimed, producing a bagel before toasting it, and smearing butter on it.

"What's new, Ron?" Harry said, smirking, feeling a bit on the arrogant side.

He shrugged, then his eyes fell on the letter Harry held in his hand. "Blimey, that looks official, that does! What's it say, come on?"

Harry grinned before handing Ron his enclosed letter. He read and re-read it, looking up in awe. "Advanced classes, are they bloody mental? I know I top my year, but still. . ."

"Ginny had the same reaction, mate. I think we should go for it, why else should we return? I mean, we all but memorized those horrible Dark Arts books Hermione borrowed. That alone should earn us a spot as Aurors. . . We probably know more about the Dark Arts than any of them, considering nearly everything in those books are banned subjects at Hogwarts." He hesitated as Molly gave him a weird look, something between a frown and a glare. "Plus all those times Hermione has already had us flip through the seventh year course books." He said seriously.

"Right, she is mental like that." He folded his arms in contemplation. Then he continued, "Well, put it this way, mate, as long as you let me copy your papers, then sure." He winced. "So, should we forward Hermione's letter to her? I mean, she _will_ be back in two days."

"Ron, you are _so_ tactless." Ginny huffed, smirking a bit. "Would it kill you to be more polite?"

Ron smirked. "Dunno, never tried."

"I don't know, I think I'll hold onto it. I have to see this reaction." Harry laughed, wrapping his arm around Ginny. "You two up for a game of Quidditch?" He proposed, knowing they would agree.

* * *

After they finished breakfast, the three of them found themselves in the orchard. Harry had kept his snitch, and Ginny was trying to sneak Harry's old football (soccer ball, for us Americans) past Ron. They didn't actually have any hoops, but they made due with what they had. Harry was riding an old Cleansweep 5, while Ron sat astride his Cleansweep 11. Ginny flew on her new Nimbus 2001; she had inherited it from her brother, Fred. Harry had never realized just how good of a chaser Ginny was, especially on her new broom. They played for nearly two hours before dismounting for lunch, which was two hours after Harry had decided he needed a new broomstick, as that old Cleansweep was outstripped by the snitch easily, especially when he wasn't exactly paying attention to it.

The day had definitely flashed by after their match in the orchard, and soon enough, it was time for dinner. Arthur had arrived home early, and eyed Harry warily as the floo sounded. Bill and Fleur stepped into the kitchen, getting a warm welcoming all around. Soon thereafter, dinner was served and conversation filled the air. Still thinking about buying a new broomstick, Harry spoke up, directing the question to Bill.

"Hey, er, Bill, I've been meaning to ask you something." Harry asked, a little apprehensive to hear the answer to his question.

"Sure, Harry." Bill replied between mouthfuls of rare steak, eyeing him inquisitively.

"Er, I've been wanting to go to Diagon Alley, you know, purchase some things, but I, er, need gold." he started. "I know the Goblins are definitely pissed about us breaking into Gringotts, but I was just wondering. . . _how_ pissed they are."

Bill leaned back in his chair, a glint of mischief in his eyes, and let out a howl of laughter. "Harry, the Goblins are bloody well hacked off!" He replied, ignoring Molly's glare as he cursed. "Three teenagers broke into one of their most heavily guarded vaults, got back out, and escaped on an extremely valuable dragon!"

He laughed again, trying to gather himself enough to answer Harry's pleading look. "Merlin, Harry, I knew you were planning something with Griphook, but that was the last thing I expected. Imagine my face when I read the Prophet the next morning."

"Your money eez fine, 'Arry." Fleur butted in, she still had a defiantly heavy french accent. "Bill 'as been keeping an eye on eet. Though I'd say _you_ are less than welcome."

"They are demanding restitution for the theft and damages you three caused there, but they are also calling for your arrest." Arthur said, and with a dismissive wave of his hand, he continued. "But of course you already knew that; the Ministry is less than happy with them right now."

"Don't worry, Harry, I can get your money for you when you need it." Bill said, still chuckling.

"I still can't believe you three weren't killed! Nobody even knows how you pulled it off!" Molly intejected, looking disapprovingly at Bill.

"Me either," said Ron, finishing his plate and cueing the clean-up. "I thought we were goners the moment we stepped foot inside the building. Lucky Harry thought riding a dragon was such a good idea."

As they finished their dinner, they continued the conversation as they each moved into the sitting room. As they all took their seats and kicked back, Arther glanced towards Ron from his armchair, his fingers intertwined as if in prayer. He spoke, interrupting Harry's nearly silent conversation with Ginny.

"Ron told me you guys almost got busted, and that Travers almost called your bluff, but wouldn't say much else." Arthur said, looking at Ron like he had been denied a real treat, and looking at Harry like his hand was resting a little too close to his daughter's waist.

"Well, that's because you guys wouldn't approve of it. I confunded the guards at the front, and put Travers and the goblin under the Imperius Curse. Simple, but brilliant." Harry said.

"That is, until Griphook backed out on us." Ron grumbled.

"I told you to be careful with Goblins, they'll double-cross a wizard as soon as they can. . . The Prophet said you were after a piece of Voldemort's soul? How does that work?" Bill inquired.

"Aye, it's called a Horcrux. You split your soul through a dark ritual. Apparently, you need to kill someone, and Merlin, it's dark. . . And he made _seven_ of them, Dumbledore almost had a heart attack when we figured that out." Harry said, summoning _Secrets of the Darkest Art_ , and flipping to the chapter on Horcruxes. He handed it to Bill, Fleur gazed over to read. Their initial frowns twisted into scornful looks of disgust, from there, to looks of outrage. When he was finished, he handed the book to his Dad, where he shared reluctantly with Molly, who nearly threw up.

"I told you it was horrible, that is the worst piece of magic in the whole book. The foulest work of magic ever created. Even _Magick Moste Evile_ refused to give instruction."

"And you two studied this? The whole book? I've seen dark things as a cursebreaker, but Merlin. . ." Bill said, frowning.

"We had to, we didn't know what we were up against. Plus, it will come in handy once we go to the Auror Academy." Ron said, "It gave us a lot of instructions on detecting traces of magic and dark magic, as well."

"Auror Academy?" Bill asked.

At this, Ron's face split into a smug smile. "Harry and I are going to the Auror Academy of Edinburgh, well, we still need to get the required physical screening, and we decided to go back to Hogwarts, but yeah. We're going to be Aurors!"

"They fancy themselves daredevils," Ginny laughed. "It's not really much of a surprise to me."

Harry grinned at her, truly happy for the first time in his life. . .

The night dwindled down, and before Harry knew it, it was nearly midnight. Bill and Fleur had left, and Arthur had made a point to follow Harry up the stairs, making sure he slept in his own designated room. As Harry lied down on his bed, he chuckled at his surrogate parents' reactions to him falling asleep on the couch with Ginny. It really had been an accident, but he didn't regret it very much. He fell asleep with a smile on his face. Even if he knew Arthur was going to interrogate him the first chance he got, at least they made each other happy. That was enough for him.

* * *

The next morning, he was awakened by Molly Weasley, at 6 am. He groaned as he rolled out of bed, quite literally crashing onto the floor. He slowly made his way to the bathroom to wash up after noting that Molly was going down to get started on his breakfast. After he finished washing up, he grabbed his razor and erased the black shadow covering his face. He had neglected to shave the day before, as usual when nothing was scheduled for him. He had finished shaving after about fifteen minutes, and pulled on his emerald green dress robes. Soon thereafter, he was sitting at the table with Molly and Arthur, eating bacon and eggs. As the clock chimed in the new hour, they bid Molly farewell, and made their way into the backyard. With one last, fleeting look at the Burrow, Harry turned on his heel and was sucked into that compressing darkness. Within seconds, he was standing in the middle of the Atrium.

Harry gathered himself after his Apparition and looked around the vast Hall. It was still lined with fireplaces left and right, and was still a marvelous sight to behold. The only difference was the sculpture in the middle of the room, or lack thereof. The previous administration had emphasized wizarding dominance over the Muggle world, and it had shown in the form of that ghastly sculpture, declaring that "Magic is Might." Now, the fountain was back, but the magical brethren were absent. However, plastered on the walls of the fountain were names. Harry turned to Arthur, who merely smiled. After they checked in with security, Harry was issued his visitors badge, and they made their way to the fountain in silence.

"Looks like Kingsley has the right idea of things. Are these the names of the people who died in the war?"

"Yes, Harry, both the First, and the Second. . . Nearly a thousand names. The donations in the fountain are going to the Muggleborns whose lives were destroyed. It won't make everything okay again, but it is a step in the right direction."

As Harry upended his money pouch into the fountain, Arthur paced around the fountain, looking sadly at all the names. It was when he stopped, Harry realized he had been looking for Fred's. Harry approached him. Putting a hand on his shoulder, he said, "You look at his name every day, don't you?"

"Very astute, Harry."

"This war has taken something from everyone involved." Harry sighed, gesturing towards his parents' names. "Don't worry about Fred, he is okay. When I talked to my parents, they looked happy. So did Remus and Sirius. He will be okay."

"I forget you talked to them that night." Arthur sighed. "I hope you're right."

"Me too." Harry said, as they turned and left the fountain and the names behind. They made their way to the lifts together, and got in. This had been the first time Harry had really been into public since he and his friends had been awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class, and took their Apparition tests. He was extremely anxious, but found it almost easy to ignore the gawkers. Perhaps because they were in such an official capacity, but all the same, he was surprised. When they stepped into the lifts, the cool voice spoke, directing them to Level One.

Harry and Arthur stepped out of the lifts a minute later, and they glanced around the opulent hall that housed the offices of the Minister of Magic and his supporting staff. Harry figured opulent was the word for it, but it seemed like so much more. There were heavily lacquered spruce hardwood floors, laid in a chevron style, which were accented by a magnificent antique runner rug. Gold fixtures held the lamps that lit the hall in place, and every door was artfully carved and chisled to perfection. There was an certain aura of breathtaking magic that just reverberated within the place. There were white marble sculptures of magical creatures and busts of notable witches and wizards lining the hall. They made their way to the end of the hall and met with the new Junior Undersecretary to the Minister, who directed them to the waiting room with the promise that she would fetch him when the Minister was ready for him.

As they sat down on the antique Chesterfield, Arthur turned to Harry, who knew that 'the discussion' was coming. He tried to smile, but it turned into more of a pained grimace. Sure enough, Arthur sighed and spoke up, but it wasn't what Harry was expecting.

"Harry, you're a good man, you're like a son, and I know how much my daughter loves you." He held up a hand for Harry to let him speak. "What I am trying to say is that I know what you two are going through. I am not naïve, I have been there myself, but I don't want you two rushing into anything. I understand a little intimacy, but just have a little respect for our house."

"Of course, Arthur. I mean, I didn't mean to fall asleep with her like that. That might have looked like something it wasn't, but nothing happened, scouts honor."

Arthur smiled a little, looking at Harry in an odd fashion. "Well, if something does happen, do well to remember she has five older brothers to protect _her_ honor."

At this moment, the door to the waiting room opened and the Junior Undersecretary opened the door, beckoning Harry to follow her. He thanked Arthur for escorting him, and left on her heels. When he entered Kingsley's office, he was reminded heavily of the Head's office at Hogwarts. There were portraits of respected and celebrated former Ministers on the walls, and magical instruments littered every table in the office. Kingsley greeted Harry as he walked in, and introduced him to Head Auror Robards, a tall man with dirty blonde hair and quite a few scars. He spoke with a Welsh accent.

"So, Harry. How has your summer been thus far?" Kingsley asked, shaking his hand.

"Well, it started off a bit depressing, but it's gotten better."

"I'm glad to hear, were all having a hard time, too." Kingsley shuffled through some parchment. "So, you have had time to make a decision, what do you want to do?"

"Well, I was hoping just to go to Hogwarts this last year, so I can have a bit of a break. Learn something new." Harry said, hoping not to disappoint.

"That's all very well, but the Aurors need help now. Not in a year." Gawain replied harshly, earning a glare from Harry.

"Robards is right, Harry, but we have a cycle of new recruits going through training now, and he'd do well to remember that." Kingsley said, interrupting a possibly dangerous retort from Harry.

"Harry, you wish to go back to school, you want to take your N.E.W.T. Levels, and we want you to go the Auror Academy. I've been trying to figure out how to win the best for both worlds. Do you still wish to become an Auror someday?"

"Yes, sir." Harry grumbled, still glaring daggers at Robards, who had an oddly familiar gleam in his eyes, though he thought nothing of it. It was a trick of the light.

"Then I think I have it figured out. All first year Auror Academy classes consist of seven classes. _Defensive Charms_ , _Offensive Transfiguration_ , _Detecting the Dark Arts_ , _Concealment and Disguise_ , _Advanced Potions_ , _Herbology_ , and _Intro to Alchemy."_

Kingsley made sure he was understood before continuing. "If you wish, your professors can teach these course studies, and at the end of the year, you can sit both your N.E.W.T. Levels and the Auror Academy of Edinburgh's Magical Aptitude Exam. Ron and Hermione are more than welcome to join you if they wish to enroll as well, perks of holding an Order of Merlin, First Class."

"Well, er, that's great, but Merlin, that's a lot of information and classes to keep up with, and I am probably going to be the Quidditch Captain again as well, and Hermione will definitely be Head Girl." Harry stated, confused. "How do you expect us to pull that off?"

"Peaked your interest? Good." Kingsley paused. "Professor Slughorn will teach you both _Alchemy_ and _Advanced Potions_ , Headmistress McGonagall will teach you _Advanced Transfiguration_ and _Offensive Transfiguration_ , Professor Flitwick will teach you _Advanced Charms_ and _Defensive Charms_ , Professor Sprout will teach you _Advanced Herbology_ , and Professor Weasley will be teaching you _Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts_ and _Detecting the Dark Arts_. Now, _Concealment and Disguise_ will be the tricky one. Professors Flitwick, Weasley, and McGonagall will be integrating this course into their advanced courses over the three semesters. Every aspect of _Concealment and Disguise_ will be broken into their categories and taught by that category's teacher. For example, _Animagus_ studies will by taught by Headmistress McGonagall, _Disillusionment_ studies will be taught by Professor Flitwick, and various concealment wards will be taught by Professor Weasley. You will have 10 classes, and your new head of house will sort out viable schedules."

"Alright, but who exactly is Professor Weasley? Arthur?"

"Arthur Weasley, the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor?" Robards scoffed. "Don't make me laugh!"

"He's a sight more brilliant than you, Robards." Harry retorted before he could bite his tongue.

"Chosen One or not, I won't be talked to like this, Potter. I don't like your tone."

"I don't like you."

"Gentlemen, calm down before I have you both removed from this office. Harry, please take these courses, Robards, you're dismissed. You will be working overtime again tonight and overseeing raids for a month for that little pissing match."

Head Auror Robards looked outraged, but took a deep composing breath and left, shutting the door none too lightly. Kingsley looked apologeticly towards Harry.

"Sorry about that, Harry, none of us like him very much, but he does exceptional work and loves his job. Hopefully it won't be too much to ask for you to work under him."

"No, sir. I just hope it won't be too much for him."

"Good, well, any questions?"

"No, sir. I guess I'll just ask Arthur about Professor Weasley."

"Good idea, and a good day to you." Kingsley stood up and shook Harry's hand in farewell. "On your way out, tell my Undersecretary to come in, please."

"Yes, sir, and a good day to you."

* * *

The door leading into the massive room opened, revealing a man with shoulder length light brown hair and maroon robes. He strutted over to the round table and took his seat. The table was packed, and a man with a twisted face sat at the head of the table, absent-mindedly twirling his wand and blankly gazing at the pale tattoo on his forearm. The man that had just joined the group spoke first, it was as if the meeting had been called to hear his information.

"Dolohov, it is done!"

"Well done, Dawlish. It took you long enough."

" _Hem, hem!_ "

"What the fuck do you want now, Umbridge?"

"Antonin," she simpered, glancing around the round table. "I was merely wondering when our plan would be set in motion, with Robards under the Imperius, and with the manpower we have acquired, it would seem foolish to wait. You already have inside information on the fortress."

"Soon, it needs to be strategic. First, we need to be feared. First, the Wizarding World needs to know that the Second Wizarding War is not over, we need to strike fear in the hearts of the Mudbloods and blood traitors alike. We strike tonight."

A blonde man down the table spoke next, and all heads turned to him. "And what about the Potter boy?"

"He will suffer, and he will die."

* * *


	6. Chapter 6: Death Eaters and Dementors

**For those of us in America, have a blessed Independence day!**

 ** _Chapter 5: Death Eaters, Dementors_** ** _, and Animagi._**

After Harry left Kingsley's Office, he had decided to get everything he needed while he was already out and away. Unfortunately, he needed more gold. After he stepped out of the lifts, he had decided to drop in on the Leaky Cauldron, where Bill and Fleur usually took their lunches together. Luckily, he had asked Bill to collect him a hefty supply of money after their discussion last night, and drop it by on Monday next. However, he was anxious to start getting back into his studies as soon as possible, especially after his meeting with Kingsley. He needed to start learning immediately. With only under two months left until the start of term, he wasn't exactly in any condition for classes above N.E.W.T. He arrived in a nearly empty Leaky Caudron almost immediately. Nearly an hour later, the two showed up, looking rather overtaxed. They spotted him, and with a quizzical glance at each other, silently decided to join him.

"All right, Harry?" Bill asked, as his wife threw herself in the booth indignantly and Harry smiled meekly. Tom the Innkeeper hunched over to take their orders, looking hopeful. "Two steaks, rare, and a couple lagers. Red wine for my wife, please."

They watched as the old, toothless wizard placed their orders and returned with their tall flagons of beer and Fleur's wine. Harry looked at the couple apprehensively, and it must have shown, because Fleur spoke up. "We quit Gringotts."

"What?! Why?" Harry exclaimed as Fleur let out an enraged snort.

"The goblins theenk we were involved in the break in. They theenk we gave inside information on the high security vaults.

"Dishonest, they said! Subversive. . . _Moi!_ " She exclaimed, pounding her fist on the table, causing Harry to feel anxious. Harry had never seen her so angry, but he had rarely felt such a sense of injustice, himself. He was just as angry on their behalf.

"What are those fucking gits thinking? How could they just stride up there and confront you with no proof?"

"They know we are close to you, they wanted us gone." Bill said quietly, sipping his beer.

"But this is ridiculous! Bill, you've been there ten years, one of their top cursebreakers! Fleur has been there for four years!"

"Dedicated work means nothing to goblins if you aren't of one mind. They noticed we've been a little protective of your vault. Something they don't much appreciate."

"Please, the only thing I broke was their egos!" Harry scoffed angrily, Bill chuckled.

"Exactly, and we were a constant reminder of that. Don't worry, we knew it was coming. Plus, it's against code for them to break into any vault. Your money isn't going anywhere."

" _Bon débarras!_ " Fleur said, with an air of finality.

"Good riddance." Bill translated at Harry's wary look.

Fleur snorted again as Tom hunched over to deliver their food. They offered their thanks and were both tucking in when Harry spoke next.

"So, then, what are you two going to do for work?"

"I'm theenking about a position for the Department of International Magical Cooperation," Fleur said in a monotonous tone, still filled with a simmering anger. "I can speek four languages."

"Yeah, she will be brilliant." Bill nodded, gazing fondly at his wife. "I was offered a position at Hogwarts a week ago; I accepted yesterday."

"No way!" Harry smiled, " _Y_ _ou're_ the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?"

"The one and only; it seems the goblins aren't the only ones who see my potential." Bill said with a sarcastic little bow. "By the way, why are _you_ here, Harry?

"I was actually hoping to meet you and collect my gold. I'm wanting to do some shopping. I need to get ready to go back to Hogwarts.

"Understandable, Fleur picked it up right before they came down on us." Bill replied, as Fleur pulled a large coin purse from her robes. "I'm going to work you like a house elf, you know."

"Fine by me, just don't say that to Hermione, she'll bite your head off."

"Noted. Mind you, I think my head has been mauled quite enough already." Bill laughed, gesturing to the deep scars on his face.

The three of them socialized for a while before the couple retreated to Shell Cottage, intending on taking full advantage of their newly found freedom. They were going to go on a vacation to France, as Bill had never been to her parent's estate. With a few more tips of what books to pick up, they were off, leaving Harry in the booth to finish his beer in silence.

After paying the tip and wishing a smiling Tom farewell, Harry left the pub, taking a little time upending his coin pouch into his newly, and quite heavily, charmed mokeskin pouch. He had taken a leaf out of Hermione's book and added both undetectable extension and featherweight charms to it. He had also placed the Muffliato charm inside it to avoid any loud jingling of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts. Finally, he tapped the third brick in the wall and watched as the archway revealed itself. Wincing slightly, he took the first steps into Diagon Alley he had taken since he had broken into Gringotts.

It wasn't quite as glum as it had been, but Harry could tell people still didn't feel exactly safe in public, yet. A fact that changed when people noticed the young raven-haired man enter through the archway. Harry groaned as their faces all lit up. Why did he have to come alone? As he walked down the familiar, winding alley, he still found himself bombarded by the usual stares from fond faces, appoached and thanked, asked for autographs, and even interrogated by the occasional audacious reporter, including an immediately recognizable Rita Skeeter, a person whom he glady reminded he would curse on a moment's notice if anything personal came from her mouth. . . or her quill. . . However uncomfortable he may of been, as he was the exact polar opposite of Gilderoy Lockhart, he still found it didn't deter him from doing his shopping. He had decided, first and foremost, that he needed an owl. It was still painful to think about replacing Hedwig so soon, but nevertheless, it was something he would need to get over.

Once he had made his way into Eeylopes Owl Imporium, he started browsing through the endless isles and stacks of cages that teetered to the rafters, all-the-while, politely ensuring the anxious storeowner that he could manage quite fine on his own. After about twenty minutes of searching for the perfect owl, only one had caught his eye. He had ended up in the "Imported Species" section, gazing into the fiercely yellow eyes of a very young and astonishingly beautiful female Great-Horned owl from North America. He opened her cage and she eyed him suspiciously, almost appraisingly. She had looked him up and down twice before seemingly deeming him a worthy master by fluttering with dignity to perch on his shoulder comfortably, nipping his finger thereafter. He considered her twenty Galleons well spent, immediately christening her 'Freyja,' after the Norse goddess of love and beauty. He chuckled as he remembered how his old headmaster had always talked about love and how powerful it is, he had called it the universal magic. She took to the name as soon as it left his lips. He composed a hasty note to the Burrow, identifying her and his whereabouts, and watched her fondly as she took flight.

As most of the shops were still closed or abandoned, Harry had thought mistakenly that his shopping may prove difficult. The only academic based stores left open were Slug and Jigger's Apothecary, Flourish and Blotts, Scribbulus Writing Instruments, and Potage's Cauldron Shop. All of the second hand stores had been ruthlessly destroyed, presumably by some of the more affluent Death Eaters. Even so, Harry was still perfectly able to find exactly what he needed in Flourish and Blotts, which were books pertaining to advanced transfiguration, advanced charms and wards, and a short book on the subject of Alchemy, which held promise to serve as a great introductory read, defining the basis and a brief theory of all alchemy. The latter contained much information on the four elements: Earth, Air, Fire, and Water. It delved into the aspect that all matter was composed of a combination of the four. It described common goals of notable alchemists, such as the purification of metals, and even manipulating certain metals into changing it's form. For example, the transmutation of Lead to Gold was one of the more popular pursuits. However, the _most_ popular form of alchemy, in fact, was the purification of the mind and body of others, such as creating medicine or antidotes to administer to the sick. Alchemy was defined as a noble, precise, and ancient art that not everyone had the mental capacity or ability to pursue.

However, as interesting as alchemy wasn't, Harry was far more interested in the very explicit information in his new transfiguration books. He had always _known_ about the ability to transform into one's spirit animal, but in ten steps? Well, if his Dad pulled it off at fifteen, then why shouldn't _Harry_ be able to pull it off at nearly eighteen? Before he even knew where he was going, he was inside Slug and Jigger's Apothecary, buying everything from small crystal phials to pure silver utensils. Next, he had moved on to the ingredients section, finding his usual ingredients, along with a single leaf from a Mandragora and the chrysalis of a Death's-head hawkmoth.

Deciding he would wait until the school supply list came out to buy anything else, he filled out an owl order at Quality Quidditch Supplies for a new Firebolt and walked back to the Leaky Cauldron. He merely gave old Tom a cheery wave and flooed back to the Burrow. At once, he was greeted by a depressed looking Hermione and a consoling Ron. As he stepped out of the large fireplace, he brushed himself off and glanced at Ron. At his gesture, Harry approached. He sat on the other side of Hermione. He gave her small grin, and she spoke up.

"You know, Harry, your "Potter charms" don't much work on me." She chuckled, though not full-heartedly.

"I don't know, Hermione, Charms has always been one of my better subjects." He replied, causing Ron to laugh, even she cracked a genuine smile.

"Seriously, 'Mione, are you alright?" Ron asked. He gently caressed her back.

"What happened? Something in Australia?"

"Oh, it's nothing, it's just. . . Well, my parents aren't very happy with me. They think I violated their rights, but. . ."

"But they don't understand what kind of danger they were in. They don't understand what could have happened to them. They would have been killed." Harry said, slightly outraged. Hermione simply nodded.

"They. . . It's just. . . They wouldn't leave! They thought I was being paranoid! They took it all and told me it was a bunch of _tosh_!" She exclaimed, shaking her head in exasperation.

"They'll come around, it seems like everybody is having a bad day. What's wrong with everybody, Full moon, you think?" Harry said.

"Why, what happened to you?" Ron asked in an inquisitive tone.

"Well, I got in a. . . what did Kingsley call it? A pissing match with the Head of the Auror Department, a real git, by the way." Harry rubbed his forehead in frustration as Ron and Hermione rolled their eyes. "Oh, and both Bill and Fleur quit Gringotts on my behalf. The goblins were seemingly trying to accuse them of giving us inside information on the inner workings of the bank."

As Harry had expected, Ron jumped up off the couch and launched himself into a furious rant. Hermione looked outraged. Harry merely laughed as Ron worked himself into a temper. However, it took three whole minutes for him to realize how amused Harry looked.

"Oy, what are you laughing at?" Ron demanded, breaking off from his vicious rant.

"Relax, Ron, he's got another job, a better one." Harry said.

"What do you mean, where?" He said, sitting down on the ottoman.

"Hogwarts, and Head of Gryffindor House to boot, I expect." Harry said, answering Ron and Hermione's curious looks.

"Really? What position did he get?" Hermione asked, with a new air of giddiness and excitement that always accompanied the subject of schoolwork.

"Defense against the Dark Arts, he was one of Gringotts' top curse breakers, right? This is right up his alley!"

"But that's wonderful, Harry! I can't wait to see how he does!"

At that moment, Ginny walked into the sitting room. Her eyes brightened at the sight of Harry and she moved to sit next to him. "Hey, guys, what's going on here?"

"We were just talking about Bill." Harry said, smiling. He took her hand and pulled him on his lap, despite Ron's hardened glare.

"Really, what about?" She giggled, throwing her arm around Harry's shoulders in a half embrace.

"Oh, Ginny, he's taking on Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts!" Hermione said.

"Really?" Ginny looked thoughtfully at them for a moment, idlely biting her lip, with her brows furrowed. A look that always drove Harry's stomach up the wall. "You know, I can totally see him as a professor. He got O's on his exams every year, and he was one of Gringotts' best cursebreakers. I reckon he'll be brilliant."

"I just hope he lasts longer than a year." Ron said, scratching his chin in thought.

"Well, since Voldemort died, you know, and since he _was_ the one who cursed the position. Maybe it will lift since he's died." Harry said, frowning. "It was in on of those Dark Arts books we were reading. A curse will only outlast your life if it has been reinforced _to_ outlast your life. That's what Mad-eye Moody did at Grimmauld Place. The book said that magic needed to be generated to keep the magic going."

"I don't know, Harry, that was seriously complex magic, it might still be there." Hermione said.

"Yeah, but if it wasn't reinforced, then it will have lifted when I killed him. Remember, he thought he was immortal, and he didn't think anyone knew about his Horcruxes. If you think about it, it makes sense." Harry said, willing them to understand. "Voldemort always underestimated magic he couldn't understand. He never understood death and he never understood love. He wouldn't have reinforced the spell, it was beneath him. It was for mortals."

"You know, 'Mione, he might be right. It was only ever him and Dumbledore who understood him, you know."

Ginny rolled her eyes. . .

"You three. . . Look, let's just wait and see if he stays more than a year. That's more productive than wasting your time discussing why he will."

Harry laughed, winking at Hermione. "Right, Gin, sorry."

"Well, I'm sure _Won Won_ is on board, but do you want to go play some Quidditch?"

Harry frowned for a moment, torn between his hobby and his studies. . .

"Errr, no, I picked up a bunch of books today, and I rather think Hermione would kill me if I didn't go through them with her. Maybe later, though." Harry said, kissing her lips gently as she stood up.

"Suit yourself. By the way, your owl is in your room. She's beautiful, but she bit me for mispronouncing her name. Mum had to tell me the 'j' is silent." She scoffed, flashing her bandaged middle finger at him, and walked out into the yard, Ron on her heels. Harry nearly choked in laughter.

Smiling, Harry sat back down, this time only next to Hermione. She gave him a sly, knowing smile, and the corners of Harry's lips twitched in return before he started searching in his bags from Flourish and Blotts. Hermione was almost always right. Sometimes he was seriously hacked off about it, but other times, much like this one, he was sincerely touched. She really was too smart for her own good. Sure enough, she spoke up, nudging him in the ribs as he was digging through his bag labeled transfiguration.

"So, you and Ginny are looking serious. That's the first time I think I've ever seen you turn down Quidditch with her, you two must be comfortable."

Harry smirked as he pulled out a book titled, _A Key to Higher Level Transfiguration,_ and another book titled, _Theory of Offensive Transfiguration and How to Use It._ He laughed as Hermione snatched the former from his hand, and replied, "I guess so, I mean, I love her. I just hope I can do good by her. Remember my relationship with Cho?"

"Harry, you really call that disaster a relationship?" She laughed, despite Harry's obvious worries. "Look," she said, temporarily placing the book down. "She's had a crush on you since she was _at least_ eleven. If she hasn't ditched you already, she won't, even if you are _more than_ a little senseless."

"Well, I just can't help but feel like I don't deserve her. And mind you, I can't be too bad. I definitely know how to cheer _you_ up, books and more books."

"You deserve her more than anyone, and she keeps you level. You are the most desirable wizard in the UK, and women are just clamoring for your attention. Everyone wants the Chosen One, but Ginny just wants Harry. She's special like that."

Harry sighed. "I never doubted that, I mean, she's never treated me like a celebrity. She's always made me feel normal, it's just. . . I don't know. Maybe it's just because it has only been a month since the end of the war."

"It'll be alright, Harry, now shut up and study." Hermione laughed.

They delved into the books, switching every half hour, and testing out their spells on Harry's empty trunk. He had summoned it so he could tweak one of his offensive spells. It was like nothing he had ever learned before at Hogwarts, causing slime to ooze out of the surface of the object, and morphing it into a sluggish version, in this case, a trunk. However, if human, it would turn the skin into a greyish green sluggish texture, and force soggy antennas from one's forehead. This quickly became Harry's signature spell. Which was, mind you, much better than Expelliarmus, and a sight more hilarious. Soon enough, he had mastered both the spell, and the counter spell, at which they called it a day.

"Harry, these really are amazing books. They are way beyond N.E.W.T. Levels!" She exclaimed, grinning ear to ear.

"Well, aren't our classes going to be beyond N.E.W.T? I figured we need to be prepared. Kingsley actually wanted me to ask you what you wanted to do after Hogwarts."

"You surprise me everyday, Harry." She said, avoiding his eyes.

"So do you, Hermione, so what do you want to do?"

Well, er, I'm not exactly sure Harry. I definitely want to be in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but I don't think I want to be an Auror, I know Kingsley wants me to."

"You know, you would make a brilliant Auror. You're definitely the brightest witch of our generation. Good at nearly all things magical."

"Nearly?" She laughed derisively, yet teasingly. "How do you figure?"

"Well, you're fabulous in all of our classes." Harry laughed. "But you're dreadful at Quidditch and Divination."

"You know, you aren't much better, mate. Actually, I reckon old Trelawney ruined the subject for everyone. I seriously thought that looked like a bowler hat in your teacup, I'm still fuming over that trick. . ." Harry and Hermione's heads darted up at the sound of Ron, at which they laughed. Ginny had came in on his heels, they looked extremely windswept. Harry had always loved the way she looked when she was flushed with color from flying. He stood up and kissed her.

"How was your game, m'lady?"

"Well, we played chasers for a while, raced brooms, and hit George and Fred's old bludgers around."

Harry smiled, giving her a slight wink and said, with a challenging look at Ron, "Looks like you beat him on all counts."

"Oy, I am your best mate, you know. Have a little faith!"

"Sorry, mate, all's fair in love and war, and this, good sir, might be a little of both!" Harry declared in his best impression of Percy's old pompous attitude. Ron glared at him in jest.

"So, m'lord, tell me, how's the book club in here?" Ginny asked.

"Oh, fantastic, I actually wanted to show you this spell." Harry said, drawing his wand.

"Harry, no!" Hermione tried to put her foot down, but too late. Harry had already mastered the spell and had cast it, pointing his wand directly at Ron.

Ron let out a little squeal as his skin turned a soft, slimy and rubbery, greyish-green texture. However, he didn't see the antennas sprout from his forehead. The room was filled with a raucous laughter. Ginny had laughed so hard she had fallen off the couch and was clutching her stomach. Hermione was laughing as well, albeit against her will; what was worse, she was still trying to give Harry a stern look that only made Harry laugh harder. He conjured a mirror and held it in front of Ron, who gasped. "Bloody _hell!_ Put me right, Harry!"

At that second, Molly Weasley burst in, looking bemused. She hadn't heard this kind of noise since Fred and George had lived here. She took one look at Ron and shrieked, then at Harry, who knew the jig was up. That he was about to be the victim of one of Molly's rants. Savoring the moment, he swished his wand and performed the counter to the spell. Within seconds, Ron was back to normal, but looking a little pale.

"Merlin's beard! _Ron!_ _What_ is the meaning of _this_ , Harry?! I thought better of you!" She demanded. She was pale and her blue eyes were flashing ominously as Ron joined in on the laughter.

"It was a new spell I figured out how to work, Molly, it doesn't do any. . . well, physical damage. . . I suppose it could damage your pride, though. I've been practicing on my old school truck, but wanted to see how it worked on a human."

"If you want a walking, talking test subject, you go find George! No more testing spells in my house, young man! I am putting my foot down!"

"No problem, Molly."

"Yes, and _you_ better do well to _remember_ it, too!" She pointed at Ron, giving him a scalding look for apparently letting Harry transfigure him. She stormed off, muttering something inaudible about "teenagers."

"Merlin's beard, I didn't even _do_ anything!"

"No luck, mate."

The day had wound by quickly after that affair, the Sun had began it's descent towards the horizon. Harry sat on the patio with Ginny, watching the garden gnomes wrestle over a small animal they had caught. Two more days, and the full moon would rise into the sky. Two more days and he could finally begin the ritual to become an animagus. He idly stoked Ginny's auburn hair as the day dwindled away. He really was quite fond of the Burrow, and wasn't lying when he confided in Hermione his feelings for the young woman next to him. If anyone deserved a break from fighting a constant battle. . . His thoughts were broken and Ginny's hand clutched around his arm. He witnessed the sky become dark and cloudy, ushering in a cold, silvery mist. . . He heard several distant _pops'_ that he always associated with Apparition. The young couple bolted into the Burrow, wielding their wands. Just when he thought the war was over. . .

* * *

The wind had shifted on Charing Cross road, it seemed like a wind was blowing in from the north. However unusal it seemed, the Muggles pushed it off as a cold front. It became dark, though the sun hadn't set. If one were to walk through London during this odd occurrence, it might seem like fall. However, it was nearly the ninth day of June; Spring was beckoning in the Summer, which by all informal accounts, was already here. No, this was definitely odd. Tom the Innkeeper, the landlord of the Leaky Cauldron, apprached warily the front door of his pub. The chills, the mist, the dread, the darkness, it was back. . . _They_ were back. . . " _Dementors!_ "

" _Dementors!_ " Tom shouted, alerting his patrons. All but one of them Disapparated immediately. Chills were running down his spine. They were close, much too close, and they were alone. Tom shouted instructions to the man, the stranger, who must have been in shock; the man couldn't seem to move his feet. Tom drew his wand, incanting the spell, " _Expecto Patronum_ " This was all he could do, he flicked his wand, sending the conjured silver boar into Charing Cross, the muggles were defenseless, at least the magical community beyond the barrier knew how to defend itself. He didn't even notice when the patron's face bubbled like hot wax, morphing into a twisted, triumphant sneer. At least not until it was too late. . .

"Helping the muggles, are we, you filthy blood traitor!?" Dolohov spat, causing the old wizard to jump in shock, he turned his wand to meet the foe, but was tossed down into the floor in agony. He dropped his wand, he bit his tongue to keep from screaming, he clawed his own balded scalp. The pain was too much.

"How does that feel, Abbott? You deserve this, you know" said the man, he was knelt down, whispering in his ear with that thick voice. Tom cried out in mingling pain and relief as he grabbed his wand, his only thoughts were on sending a message to the Ministry, to the Minister. He sent the Patronus just as Dolohov yelled in fury, punching the old man before he resumed the Cruciatus. It was unbearable, surely his heart would just give out. He was far too old to withstand this. The curse was lifted again. Only to be replaced again. . .

" _Crucio!_ "

Tom squealed and shrieked, he screamed and choked, blood was falling freely from his nose. He was going to break. He had to break. The Cruciatus was too strong for him, too unbearable. He let out one, last bloodcurdling howl and shuddered, falling into semi-consciousness. If this was death, this wasn't all too bad. As long as he was free from the pain. He wanted it to end. . . Suddenly, he was back on the dusty hardwood floor of his pub. Dolohov was laughing at him.

"Not so fast, Abbott, you won't go this easily."

Tom moved his mouth, but no sound came out. The Aurors weren't here yet. Nobody was coming. . . He was going to die, and nobody was going to be able to help him. So be it, but he was going to make it count. His courage had always given him strength, but he needed more than that, he needed luck. He rolled over, climbing weakly to his feet. He faced Dolohov slowly, who was sneering at the gesture. He would smash the pathetic muggle-loving fool for his crimes against their righteous cause, for his slanderous words, and for his disloyalty.

"You won't win, Antonin. The war is already over." He wheezed. He sensed the outrage he had inflicted, but he didn't care. He wasn't going to die without fighting.

"You know nothing, old man, how dare you to presume to challenge me?" He laughed derisively. He really did have his old master's arrogance, but not without reason. He was just as skilled in the Dark Arts as Bellatrix Lestrange, perhaps more so.

"I will do what I must." Tom said simply.

The curses flew left and right, destroying the pub. The duel was grueling, and Tom was old, weakened by the Cruciatus. He had never been one to seek out a duel, he had never even been great shakes at Defense Against the Dark Arts, after all, he _did_ own a pub, he was merely an Innkeeper. He was no Auror, and he was no match. He fell to the ground fairly quickly, defeated by Lord Voldemort's third in command. The new nemisis of the wizarding world. Dolohov had killed him with that infamous purple flame, the same curse that had ended so many others. Dolohov laughed triumphantly, and displayed old Tom's body in plain sight for the person to walk in next, broken and bloody. He moved to the alley, entering through the archway. He watched as his Dementors ravaged the shops, and patronuses attempted to run them away. He smirked arrogantly as his Death Eaters dueled mercilessly, slaying everything they could. Then, after what felt like a century, he called them off, and they were gone. . .

* * *

 **Sorry about the long wait, I got a new phone and none of my chapters ported over with it. I've been rewriting this one and the next, so I _have_ been hard at work, when I haven't been writing, I have been plotting and imagining scenarios. **


	7. Chapter 7: Another Day in the Life

**_Chapter_** ** _7: Another Day in the Life._**

Harry and Ginny bolted into the Burrow, wielding their wands. Harry turned to Ginny as she barred the door. There was panic in his eyes, fear for the lives of his closest friends, fear for the well-being of his adoptive family, and fear for the woman he loved. He wouldn't let it unnerve him, he couldn't. He needed to keep a cool head, but every time he looked at Ginny, flashbacks from the Battle of Hogwarts flooded him. In a desperate gesture, he grabbed her and kissed her one last time.

" _Go upstairs, Ginny, get your parents! We can't do this alone; we need their help! Get Ron and Hermione!_ _I'll hold them_ _off!_ "

He had to shout over the sounds of explosions outside. It sounded like the Death Eaters were setting everything ablaze, breaking through the wards surrounding the house. He realized, as his sense of dread increased, that he had all but echoed his father's final words, the words that were now running through his head against his will.

 _"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! I'll hold him off!"_

Ginny immediately ran upstairs, calling out for help all the while. Harry unlocked the back door, thankful the Death Eaters were taking their time, savoring the moment. He opened the door and took a deep, calming breath. He counted ten Death Eaters, and likely fifty Dementors. He was right, he couldn't face this alone, but he had to try. He thought of Ginny, of his parents, and of his best friends. He aimed his wand into the dark sky.

" _Expecto Patronum!_ "

As he incanted the charm, the great stag burst through the Elder wand. It cantered into the swarm of Dementors that were closing in on him, threatening to surround him. The Death Eaters charged.

"That's a stag, it's his! I've seen him cast it, myself!"

Harry didn't have time to recognize the familiar, overtly-feminine shout. All he heard was the call to arms, and all he saw was nearly a dozen curses close in on him, some were meant to stun, some were meant to torture, and some, the more sinister, were meant to kill. Harry answered them, and dove aside to avoid the green lightning that had always plagued his worst nightmares. He got back to his feet, prepared to duel. He cast a ward between them, willing it to hold them off long enough.

" _Protego Maxima!_ "

The Death Eaters, it seemed, had come prepared, and they amost immediately blasted through the ward. Harry heard a distant thundering from the top of the stairs as he sent multiple stunners into the barrage of spells flying back and forth, parrying everything he could. He made eye contact with the squat woman and saw red. Dolores Umbridge, a Death Eater, after all she had already done. He cast another Patronus, trying with all his might to battle ten foes, but they were much more of a match. He was being overpowered, and a spell slipped through his defenses, gashing his wand arm deeply. He stumbled to the ground as blood soaked his shoulder, and suddenly the help he needed was right beside him.

"Harry, are you okay?!" Arthur shouted.

"Hold the house! Cast Patronuses! someone go fight from the window in the dining room! Hermione, Ron, go check the front, see if it's clear!"

The Death Eaters pushed forward, trying to fend off the new barrage of spells. Harry felt the Anti-apparition warding take hold over the Burrow as Ron and Hermione darted into the sitting room. He knew they thought they were going to win. He needed to fight. He needed to fight with everything he had. He aimed his wand at Umbridge, who was doing the most damage.

" _Stupefy!_ "

Blocked. . .

" _Confringo!_ "

Blocked. . .

" _Sectumsempra!_ "

Blocked. . .

Harry stepped out of the door, running towards her, distracting the others. He sent another Blasting Charm at her.

"Trying to kill me, Potter? I always knew you were a rotten little shit, you need proper punishing." She giggled.

"Whatever I am, what does that make you?"

 _"I am justice!"_

"I've had enough of your delusional prejudices, Umbridge." Harry spat, quite impatiently.

She screamed again in rage as they began to duel again. Their wands tore through the air with speed and agility, they fought each other, nearly to a stalemate, but Umbridge was slower at closer quarters. Harry saw as Molly blasted Pansy Parkinson off her feet. Then Hermione returned to the fray, coming to duel at her friend's side, with tears in her eyes and blood all over her hands. She started dueling with Rabastan Lestrange, the man that had helped torture the Longbottoms into insanity. Harry was still attempting to overtake Umbridge with all of his might, sending what felt like every spell he had learned at her until, finally and ominously, she collapsed under his stunner.Three were down, he stunned Rodolphus, who had been distracted by the gash that appeared across his brother's chest. Hermione's successive curse hit the man full in the face and he fell.

Harry glanced around, and saw a masked figure who was in an intense battle with Molly, who had stepped out of a hole that had been blasted into the Burrow wall. Their wands twirled and swished through the air, and Molly was gaining the upper ground, forcing him to retreat step by step under her own series of spells, which were bombarding offensively towards the man, but he was just teasing her. Toying with her like a cat playing with its dinner. He laughed as he cast a curse of his own, breaking through Molly's Shield Charm.

It seemed like the whole world stood still, and everyone ceased fire as Molly was blasted off her feet by a well placed spell, she crashed into the wall and fell to the ground, where she remained, quite still. The remaining Death Eaters laughed maniacally as they resumed their duels, fueled by the momentum swinging their way, brimming with a newly found confidence, if only shortly lived. Arthur let out a cry like a wounded animal and bounded out to resume his wife's duel. He was overwhelmed by grief, emotion, and raw, untapped magic. Harry ran to join him, dueling back to back with Arthur, facing a foe of his own, and trying to protect Molly from Corban Yaxley, warding the immediate area surrounding her.

"Trying to protect the blood traitors and mudblood? How very appropriate for an old fool's protégé!" He taunted him, laughing, swatting away Harry's offensive spells. Harry only fought harder, remaining silent, trying to block off his mind.

Light from every different spell was flying in every direction, filling the backyard. He was dueling two at once, and he overcame one, but his relief was short lived as he was put under the Cruciatus by Yaxley. The Death Eater laughed as Harry writhed around on the ground in pain, and he finally lifted the curse. Harry got up weakly, aching and bloody. He looked around. Chaos was raining down on a burning Burrow, the home he had never had. The Dementors had long since been held at bay, and finally retreated. Fear still gripped Harry's heart. Where was Ron? He made eye contact with Yaxley and began, once again, to duel.

"You know, Potter, you make a good challenge. I like that. _Avada Kedavra!"_

The curse barely missed Harry as he dove aside to evade it. He heard the man Ginny was dueling crumple to the ground and she turned her wand towards Yaxley, hitting him from behind with a stunner of her own, forcing the Death Eaters that remained to retreat. They fled back to the shadows, like cowards, knowing that the battle was lost, but the damge was done. Harry felt numb.

"Ron!" Hermione screamed, bounding into the Burrow. Harry raced in on her heels, nearly petrified. She looked hysterical. They reached the destroyed sitting room where his limp body lied prostrate, and she collapsed next to him; she rolled him over and shook him. "Ron, Wake up!"

"Is he alright, Harry? Tell me he's alright!" Ginny demanded, she was pale and covered in dirt and sweat, trembling head to foot, but thankfully she was unscathed.

"I. . . I don't know. . ." Harry drew his wand. Hermione was simply crying over their best friend.

" _Do_ something!"

He placed his wand to his best friend's warm, bandaged chest. . .

 _"Renervate!"_

Harry began to panic as nothing happened, he began fearing for the worst. He bit his lip, raking his brain for an answer. There had to be a spell, something that could help, anything that was safe to perform, but there was only one thing that he could think of. . . The spell from which the one he had just used had derived from. He placed his wand tip to his best mate's chest again and summoned all of the energy he could muster, willing it into the wand. His wand tip glowed a silvery-blue, and he incanted the spell as the wand emitted a surge of his own power.

 _"Enervate!"_

The spell tore immediately through his system, ripping his own energy away, and he was already exhausted. He heard the distant shout of Arthur, ordering them to St. Mungos, and he heard the slight gasps from Hermione and Ginny, and he passed out, cold and pale. Nothing was real anymore.

* * *

Harry woke up in the hospital two days later, on the tenth of June, the day he had been so anxiously awaiting. He reached for his glasses and looked around. It was late, and the hospital was absolutely packed. The sounds of patients wincing and sobbing in pain filled the atmosphere as countless Healers made their ways around the room, attempting to tend to all of the injured people. There must have been other attacks; no other explaination could suffice. He gingerly pulled himself up, but a Healer pushed him back down.

"Now, Mr. Potter, you need to relax. You'll be okay. Take this potion." The kind faced Healer forced a goblet into his hand. "It will restore you back to full health. The spell you performed on Mr. Weasley was quite dangerous, and took most of your energy."

"Did it work?" He asked groggily before downing his potion.

"Yes, it did, but he still will be here for quite a while. He's on the mend." She declared in a slightly noticable foreign accent.

Harry let out a breath he hadn't known he had been holding. "And Mrs. Weasley?"

"She is asleep. She only suffered a few broken bones and a mild concussion. Nothing that some Skelegro and a couple pain relieving potions couldn't fix!" The Healer smiled at him and informed him that she would be back with another potion.

He laid on his hospital bed for a moment, taking in his surroundings. A creepy sense of Déjà vu began to overwhelm him. He felt like he was just waking up again, just after the Battle of Hogwarts. He felt the same sense of self-loathing, guilt, and remorse that he felt only a little over a month ago. Everything, it was all his fault. The Weasleys had suffered enough already without him bringing more pain into their house. No, they hardly even had a house anymore, thanks to him. They would be better off without him. He noticed that they had all apparently been to visit, and had left him the newspaper on his bedside table, along with a few boxes of Chocolate Frogs and other sweets. He grabbed the newspaper and began to read, hungrily. He needed answers.

 **England Under Attack! Death Eaters Look to New Leader!**

 ** _Where is Kingsley Shacklebolt?_**

 _Written by: Rita Skeeter, newly reinstated lead journalist for the_ Daily Prophet.

 _Minister of Magic,_ _Kingsley Shacklebolt, 38, is at a loss for words as terror grips the nation, and seems to have lost the old spark he used to have as an Auror. He is currently heading up, or should I say, fumbling through, an investigation into the attacks on Diagon Alley, Knockturn Alley, Ottery St. Catchpole, Godric's Hollow, and Hogsmeade. Attacks that were with no doubt performed by the maniacle extremists toting the moniker of "Death Eaters_ ". _Eye witnesses o_ _f the attacks tell us that nearly fifty Death Eaters were involved, of which, only nine were captured and are awaiting trial, due in part to the apparent lack of Auror motivation to come to the aid of our citizens._ _Head Auror Gawain Robards and Lead Auror John Dawlish, in fact, were seen by many to be actively avoiding their duty as responders in such a crisis. By extension, they thereby delayed the departure of the entire Auror Department. When will they learn?_

 _Not only does our Minister not know how to deal with the massive upcoming threat of another allied attack by Dementors and Death Eaters, but he also has no leads on finding the current abode for the Death Eaters_ , _nor has he no leads on the copious amounts of Dark artifacts stolen from Borgin and Burke's, who are both now dead. Murdered mercilessly in their shop. The Death Eaters are now steadfastly rising to more power in the United Kingdom. It truly is a shame to say that this is all going down on Minister Shacklebolt's resume._

 _Reliable sources from within the Ministry of Magic itself declare in unison that the new, and very temporary, interim Minister of Magic has been shut up in his office all month, avoiding the rest of the Ministry. What are we to make of this, when, in fact, he would rather spend time awarding Orders of Merlin to war survivors and discussing a future at the Ministry with young Harry Potter, 17, than taking care of the wider wizarding world? What good is a Minister who fires most competent employees from previous regimes and ignores potential threats from wanted criminals? It sincerely casts doubt that he is even trying to find them. It is my deepest regret to inform the wizarding world, and our_ Daily Prophet _readers,_ _that Shacklebolt might soon be asked to leave office. I, for one, am calling for his immediate resignation._

 _For more on Shacklebolt's alleged Ministry interference during the past year, see page 6. For more on Harry Potter, see page 2._ _For more on the attacks across Britain, continue reading. . ._

As Harry threw the paper down in anger, the Healer returned with his potion and informed him that he could leave after drinking it, which he was grateful for. St. Mungo's had always made Harry feel on edge. In retrospect, all hospitals did, as his Uncle Vernon had always threatened him with a week's worth of hard labor and beatings if the nurses found anything suspicious. The Dursleys. His blood boiled just thinking about the lot of them. Dudley, Harry supposed, was a different case now, but his Aunt and Uncle, that wretched old bitch, Marge? Every time they were mentioned his lips contorted into a scowl. After he swallowed his potion, who's foul taste only pronounced his scowl, Harry made his way over to the Intensive Care unit in the Spell Damage ward, brooding already, only to find a severly battered Ron with Hermione, who looked like she hadn't left his side in days. He sat down next to her and put his arm around her shoulders.

"That's _my_ girlfriend, Harry, remember?" Ron said weakly, trying to smile. "You're dating my little sister." Harry gave a slight smirk and Hermione blushed a brilliant red.

"You had us all in a right state; we thought they had done you in." He said in a soft, shy voice. A voice that, if anything, sounded defeated.

"Naw, they aren't _that_ talented, are they? thanks for saving me." Ron mumbled in a slur, due to a lack of front teeth. He was still practically cross-eyed from the attack.

"Don't worry about it; I was very obligated."

"I'm glad you're awake, Harry, you scared us. That spell, well, it's extremely dangerous, you _know_ that! You _read_ it, _Magick Moste Evile_. Using one's own energy to restore those effected by Dark Magic, there's a reason it isn't used anymore. Merlin's pants, Harry, Is there anything you need?" Hermione said all of this very quickly. She threw her arms around Harry's neck and buried her face in his chest, crying silently. She was obviously very worried about him.

"Peace and quiet." Harry replied gently. They sat in an awkward silence. Hermione only looked more worried.

"Harry. . . Don't -"

"I need to go." Harry interrupted in that dull, empty voice that seemed to ring in the silence. "Right, I'm going back to the Burrow."

"Harry, wait!"

Harry ignored Hermione's worried voice and merely kept walking, he reached the door and shut it. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, leaning for support on the metal frame. It was nearly midnight and he needed to get a move on. He couldn't miss the deadline. He had to become an animagus, sooner rather than later. He made his way down to the lobby and flooed to the Grimmauld Place, landing in the dusty fireplace of the derilect London townhouse. Harry wrinkled his nose, there wasn't anything else for it.

 _"Kreacher!"_

A slight _crack_ announced the now-loyal house elf's arrival. He still wore Regulus' locket proudly, displaying it over his tea towel toga. Harry looked at him solemnly, the elf looked on the verge of tears. Harry stepped out of the fireplace and knelt down beside him, patting him on the shoulder. The elf trembled at his touch, as if expecting to be beaten.

"M-Master called?"

"Yes, Kreacher, I was wondering if you could do me a favor."

"Kreacher is bound by law to obey his young Master Harry's commands. . ." He said, looking confused. Kreacher, if anything, wasn't used to this kindness.

"I was wondering if you could go get my things from my room at the Burrow. It's all in a room off of the third floor landing. I need my clothes, my ingredients, my school supplies, books, and my owl."

"Yes, M-Master." Kreacher bowed, and with a snap of his fingers, he was gone.

Harry quickly stood up, brushing himself off, and made his way around the house. He lit the oil lamps that lined the walls with his wand as he examined the old house. Yaxley had really done a number on it, but he was pleased to see that the damage wasn't so bad that it couldn't be fixed. In fact, he was absolutely thrilled when he saw that the portrait of Walburga Black had been burnt to a crisp. He was merely glad that the despicable Death Eater wasn't the most barbaric. Nevertheless, if only one thing was for sure, he did still have a fair amount of hard work set out for him. He would need to make this place livable again, that is, if he was indeed going to live here. At that moment, Kreacher arrived, laden with all of Harry's possesions.

"Kreacher has arrived with Master's school things, clothes, and comforts." The elf declared in his bullfrog voice. He still looked apprehensive.

"Excellent, Kreacher," Harry replied dully, "Right, I need my silver bowl and my Mandrake leaf. I need to step outside for a moment."

Kreacher busied himself with retrieving Harry's requested items, which he did with great haste. He quickly presented them to his Master.

"Great. Thanks, Kreacher. Now, I'm sure you're tired, but I really need this place cleansed and tidied up." Harry began, hating himself even more for even giving this order. "We're going to be living here for a while, and it needs to be in it's best condition. Also, if I'm not up by dawn, please wake me. That is impotant."

Kreacher teared up, "Master is coming to live in the House of Black? Kreacher will clean all night, he will! It must be spotless!"

Harry chuckled halfheartedly, and turned towards the rear of the house. He stepped through the backdoor and sighed. It was going to be a long night for Kreacher.

* * *

Despite the late hour of the night, Harry could be found outside of the overgrown and unkempt garden in the backyard of number 12, Grimmauld Place, thankful that it was a cloudless night. He brought Freyja out with him, and she flew graciously from her perch on his shoulder as he gazed solemnly into the sky. The pure light of the full moon gracefully illuminated the earth. He reached into his pocket, producing a single mandrake leaf. He examined it closely, having not paid much thought to how large it was, not to mention how long, rough, and uncomfortable this next month would be, and hopefully it was only going to take a month. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, shoving the leaf in his mouth grudgingly. If anything, it was worse than he had expected. Prickly, the little fucker was. "Merlin, I see why already." He thought. "Why would anybody want to do this?" He folded the leaf over with his tongue and sat down next to the silver bowl he had set out to collect the dew. It can't have touched human feet or sunlight if it had just fallen straight into the bowl. There was nothing for it, he would just have to set the bowl outside every night, and tuck it away in a dark place with it's lid during the day.

He gathered his things and made his way back up into his godfather's old house, the ancestral house of Black. He made his way into Sirius' old room and performed a cleansing charm on the whole room, and one on the bed. He felt a pang of guilt, as he had remembered asking Molly how it was done, he didn't even want to think about the Weasleys right now. They had lost their sense of security and shelter because of him. He laid upon the old bed, trying to empty his mind of all thought. He sighed as he set his alarm for five in the morning and charmed his watch for extra ensurance. He quickly drifted into an unusually light, dreamless sleep.

* * *

"Hermione, go _home_. People need you. You aren't much a help hovering over me day and night. I'll be fine."

"Don't be so daft, Ronald, you can barely see straight and you still can't lift your wand high enough to find out which way is north!"

"Come of it, do you really think the Death Eaters are going to attack the Hospital?"

"They might try to! We don't know _anything_ , only that they want revenge. You are Harry's best mate. What better way to get it?

"No one is going to attack me, or even try to use me while I'm in this state. I look like a broken toy!

Hermione sighed. He really was a stubborn arse, and nothing she could say would convince him. She moved aside as a Healer with a shoulder-length roan mane and a rough stubble moved in with a steaming goblet. The man proceeded towards Ron as Hermione stood by, watching impatiently. Ron murmured his thanks and drank from the goblet deeply. Judging from his expression, as was the usual when it came to restorative potions, he looked like drinking the potion as quickly as possible was the best route to take. Indeed, when his face reappeared, he looked merely moments away from retching. He handed his goblet back with a flushed face, sending the impatient Healer on his way to the next patient. Once the young couple was ensured privacy again, Hermione moved back towards Ron's hospital bed, perching next to him. She gently stroked his overgrown hair out of his eyes.

"'Mione, just look at you. You can't stay here for a whole fortnight, that's how long they said it would take to heal me." Ron resumed their previous conversation. "Go get some rest, go eat. Find Harry and bring him back around, Merlin knows he's off sulking about everything."

"Harry will be okay. Are you sure you don't need me here?" Hermione placed her hand gently over his ribcage, finding solace in the feeling of Ron's rhythmic heartbeat.

"Positive."

"Alright then, but I will still come see you every day."

"Deal." Ron said, an air of finality impressively filling the air.

"I love you, Ron." She said, for the first time in living history.

"I feel the same for you, Hermione, I've loved you for a while.

Hermione grinned as she left her perch on the bed, she merely kissed his cheek, whispering, "I know." and she walked away.

As she exited the ward, Ron sat in disbelief. He couldn't believe what had just happened. Even as a new Healer entered the ward, his thoughts never stopped revolving around Hermione. He couldn't believe his luck, he was in the hospital, stuck in St. Mungo's for a fortnight, but he was still happy. In fact, he wouldn't rather be anywhere else right now. The lights dimmed as he drifted off into a peaceful sleep. He didn't even notice as a rush of energy entered his body and fogged his mind.

 _"Imperio!"_

The imposter only whispered the curse, nearly inaudibly, as he walked back past the door to exit the ward. The war was only just beginning, and the Death Eaters were on their way to becoming stronger than they ever were these past four years. He would make sure of it. After Voldemort had died, it was almost survival of the fittest, and Dolohov had come out on top, uncontested. The new leader of the revolution, so be it. He could only hope his faith wasn't unfounded, it would cost him everything.

* * *

 **Let me know if you find any errors in my writing through a PM, I needed to get this up, so I didn't proof read quite as well.**


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